Felix Finis
by eyrianone
Summary: Post Ep 'For Better or Worse' The search for Richard Castle.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Needed a new project anyway;)**

* * *

'_Felix Finis'_

_(A Happy Ending)_

_So close to reaching  
That famous happy end.  
Almost believing  
This one's not pretend.  
And now you're beside me,  
And look how far we've come.  
So far, we are. So close..._

_Oh how could I face the faceless days,_  
_If I should lose you now?_

* * *

'**So Close' by Jon McLaughlin**

* * *

_**Prologue:**_

* * *

She isn't certain how long she stares at the flames.

So hot, so bright, so terrifyingly fierce as they continue to engulf the mangled remains of what was once Castle's beautiful Mercedes. She doesn't really register the tears that stream heavily down her face, just the need to keep on wiping them away. Keep her eyes fixed on what remains of him.

Except that it can't possibly be true.

Reality.

It can't. Because she _can't_ do this, she can't be here; she can't even _breathe_ in a world without him.

She keeps expecting that she'll wake up any minute. Because she has to. She just has to. This is the happiest day of her life, she's been waiting for this forever . . .

His last words to her are clear as day, bright and vibrant and true within her and she clings on to them.

"_Kate, I love you."_

Precious words. His words. Her whole life and it's always been his words that meant more to her than anything.

So he can't be dead. He just can't . . . he just can't be. It's _not _possible, she thinks it even as it feels like her heart is dying in her chest, burning into a write-off as forever useless as the vehicle before her.

The Hamptons' Fire department arrives just as Espo's strong arms are suddenly tugging at her, pulling her away from the edge. Kate kicks and screams and the arms tighten, meaningless words of comfort offered until she sags broken, a puppet with no strings - just as the last of the fiery inferno is doused out.

There's a weird silence in the aftermath. A beat like breath, a pause like everything, like the universe is on-hold until . . .

There's a body in the car. Burned beyond all recognition, but it's definitely a tall, male. It's just preliminary . . . but it fits.

Later she won't remember any of being taken from the scene of the crash and back to the house. The hugs, the words of comfort, the support all her gathered loved ones try to offer, it's all white-noise and she's trapped away from them like she's in a parallel dimension, because the only person she wants in the world is the one no longer here.

Martha helps her out of the dress. Immediately stowing the stunning gown with a quiet solicitude and stoicism so it isn't a painful reminder, before she dresses her like a child into a set of clean and comfortable pajamas. Kate simply sits then where Martha puts her and waits.

Nothing will register until there's a prick in her arm and a cold sensation, a creeping lethargy as the sedative kicks in.

At this point Kate doesn't care. Nothing is all that stretches before her for eternity anyway.

* * *

He's bruised and battered, bound and gagged, but relatively unhurt. Blood drips persistently down into his right eye from a deep gash up in his hairline somewhere, but it's superficial. His previously immaculate wedding attire is ruined however and he's furious, but certainly not about that.

This rage is cold. A bitter opposite to the fire that's destroying what's left of his car. The stone cold rage of impotence, of not seeing something until it it's too late. And it's breaking his heart, ripping it to shreds because this is a nightmare he walked into, lamb to the slaughter, all planned.

All of it.

Everything from Kate's unknown marriage, to her ruined dress to their burned out venue. A careful manipulation of circumstances; a poetic ballet of cause and effect, leading the pair of them – he and Kate, guiding them so valiantly here. So desperate to save their perfect day, that they didn't once stop to rationally question the continuing barrage of bad things that just kept on happening to interfere with them.

And he feels so fucking broken, so stupidly destroyed now that he didn't see it coming. That in the wake of finally being free of Bracken he forgot that there was still a reason not to let his guard down.

He _should _have seen it. He should have seen it from act one, from the very first domino.

It was so blatantly, glaringly obvious.

Come on. How many background checks has Kate had to go through in her career and not one of them ever managed to uncover that she was married to a criminal?

It's ludicrous.

In hindsight he sees it all.

Just as he sees the soul-destroying scene unfolding in front of him - because he's forced to, watching from the bushes as Kate breaks and splinters before his eyes. The most beautiful thing he's ever seen in her gorgeous gown and everything in him tries to reach out to her, he begs her in his mind. He pleads.

He blocks out the terrifying chuckle of Jerry Tyson, as the sick fucking psycho, someone Castle hates more than he's ever hated anything - rejoices beside him, and he wills the words to her silently, over and over and over again . . .

"I love you, Kate. Don't give up, Baby. Fight, Kate. Fight with me. I promise you your happy ending."


	2. Without you I drown

**A/N: The lyrics at the beginning of each chapter will form a playlist for this hiatus/story. I thought it might be fun.**

* * *

_Nobody here knocking at my door  
The sound of silence I can't take anymore  
Nobody ringing my telephone now  
Oh how I miss such a beautiful sound_

_And I don't even know how I survive_  
_I won't make it to the shore without your light_  
_No I don't even know if I'm alive_  
_Oh, oh, oh without you now_  
_This is what it feels like_

* * *

**'This Is What It Feels Like' Armin van Buuren**

* * *

**Chapter one: **Without you I drown

* * *

Tyson makes him watch until Esposito has to physically haul his destroyed fiancée away, then the butt of the Triple Killer's gun comes down viciously against the back of his skull, and Castle mercifully knows nothing.

* * *

Martha strokes gently through Beckett's hair, slender fingers carefully untangling the soft waves as the sedated detective remains blissfully unconscious. Martha's been sitting attentively beside her for hours now.

"How long do you anticipate it will keep her out?" Castle's mother asks Dr. Parrish quietly.

"Anywhere from a couple more hours to overnight," Lanie replies, her voice heavy with strain. "If I had to guess it'll be the latter. I doubt either her body or her mind is going to be fighting it."

Martha nods, continues her soft ministrations again. The sight gets Lanie right in the chest; it's a mother's love and care Kate is currently receiving, and Lanie knows that whatever happens next, Kate will never lose this wonderful woman from her life. It's been five hours already since they got the news, and Castle's mother has been nothing short of a rock since, most especially for her should-be daughter-in-law. She took charge of Kate immediately that Esposito got her back to the Hamptons' house, and Lanie honestly doesn't know what they – let alone Kate, would have done without her.

"Martha, I'm so sorry," Lanie ventures brokenly. "In all of the chaos we've all been a bit focused on Kate. I can't imagine what you're going through. You or Alexis."

Castle's daughter has been put under the watchful eye of Jim Beckett. The teenager is as devastated as Kate; the arms of a father were more than required.

Martha shifts her gaze over to Lanie, and the medical examiner's eyes fill with tears at the actress's expression. Martha's lovely face is so pale, her blue eyes huge in her face and Lanie swallows, it's hard witnessing the volume of pain written there.

"What can I do?" she responds immediately, "What can I do to help you?"

Martha's lips purse into a hard line, and she straightens her shoulders as if she's balancing the weight that's sitting on them, her voice when she speaks is full of undercurrents, low and determined.

"Darling, I hate to ask," she begins.

"What?"

"Lanie, I need you and the boys to be the ones to make sure."

Dr. Parrish frowns, and then she comprehends exactly what it is that Martha is asking of her.

_Oh. Oh, no._

"Oh . . ."

Castle's mother nods her head tightly; the pleading look on her face is just painful.

"We both know that in the long run Katherine won't accept a truth that doesn't come from the few people she trusts. And I know that it's probably exactly what it appears, I'm not . . . I'm not really carrying a false hope," she says.

Lanie bites her lip, "But you want the three of us to make completely sure it was actually Castle's body that was in that car?"

There's a vivid flash of desolation in the older woman's bright blue eyes at the mention of her son's name, tears welling that Martha hasn't let fall yet.

"Yes," she answers. "I think after everything that has happened over the last five years, if this is left to others none of us will truly accept it. Questions will linger." Her expression turns apologetic. "And I do understand that what I'm asking is hard for you."

Lanie wants for a brief moment to just say, "No". Richard Castle was her friend, her good friend, not just the love of her best friend's life. She doesn't want to see him like that, doesn't want to have to be the one that makes that determining call – but she can't tell Castle's mother that. And she knows that she could never tell Beckett that either. Feeling a little lost for just a moment she opens and shuts her mouth silently, pushing the struggle deep, deep, down.

"Lanie-"

"Okay." Lanie interrupts. "I'll go and find Javi and Kevin. We're all a long way out of our jurisdictions but I know that the boys have some sort of connections up here."

Castle's mother manages a brief smile, relief crinkles her forehead.

"I'll stay with Katherine. If she wakes, I'll tell her what it is that I've asked you all to do."

Dr. Parrish heaves a breath, crosses the few feet between herself and Castle's mother and briefly squeezes the older woman's shoulder, wishing she had half this woman's strength inside her.

"I'll let you know the moment we find out anything," she promises. She's almost out of the slowly darkening bedroom when Martha calls out after her and the M. E. turns back.

"Thank you, darling." Martha tells her.

Lanie tries to twist her mouth into a smile, but fails. Then she turns, hastens her steps. She's been given a mission, a horrible, heavy mission, and it's not one that can be delayed or shaken.

* * *

He drifts up, swimming through a pounding in his skull that feels like jack-hammering. His eyelids are too heavy to open, his body aches and his hands, he can't move them, can't make them come up to his face. Voices, words drift around him but he can't clearly make them out, Castle tries to concentrate and after a beat suddenly his brain cooperates and he's able to bring things sort of into focus.

Someone's brushing the hair back off his face, a soothing, repetitive caress that the writer blindly turns into, finding himself somewhat surprised by the realization that he can at least move his head. His lips feel dry and chapped as he moves them; it's an effort of will alone to get them to form a name.

"Kate?"

It isn't his fiancée who answers him; in fact he isn't even answered at all.

"He's really very handsome, even without improvements." The voice is female, dispassionate, cultured and . . . oddly familiar, and Castle's immediate reaction to it is to recoil away. Something in his mind warning him, something in his memory knows this voice is not safe.

"Not so much by the time I'm finished with him." He hears a man reply. And that voice Castle knows instantly, recent events coming back in a flash. The SUV. The wedding. Being forced off the road and then abducted by Jerry Tyson at gunpoint. Realizing everything was a set-up. Realizing it was all just another sick plan. The body! Oh he remembers seeing Tyson put a body in his damaged car, he even thinks he might know who it was. He remembers watching helplessly as Tyson sent the Mercedes over the edge, artfully staging the crash of his car before calling it in to emergency services anonymously. Kate! Oh God, Kate. It kills him what she must currently be experiencing.

Richard Castle struggles on the motel room bed where he's tightly strapped down.

"Kate," he mumbles. "Kate-"

"He's coming around, Doc." Tyson observes dispassionately.

Kelly Neiman shoots her sometimes-lover; sometimes-partner an acrid look that clearly says 'no shit, Sherlock,' before digging around inside a black backpack, quickly procuring both a hypodermic needle and a drug vial containing a clear liquid.

Thirty seconds later and the writer is struggling no more, Dr. Neiman seats herself beside him, and lets her elegant fingers resume their forays into his hair.

* * *

When Kate opens her eyes the bedroom is dim, the early light only just beginning to creep in from the window and spill across the floor. Her recollection is hazy, and for a brief moment everything is normal until she instinctively reaches out for Castle and encounters only air.

Reality crashes in on her with a force like a star imploding, and the sob that explodes out of her lungs feels like it rips her soul out along with it. And then she's just gasping for air, pushing herself up in the bed and struggling to get the sheets off her, even their meaningless weight too much for her body to bear.

"Easy, take it easy, Katherine."

Kate turns her head and finds Castle's mother pushing herself up slowly from a chair that's been dragged alongside the bed. One look and Kate notes that Martha's still in the wedding ensemble she was wearing - it is yesterday? And Kate feels shame flooding through her that Martha hasn't felt it safe to leave her, even as she's immeasurably humbled. Kate reaches out for her, and Martha comes easily, tucking Kate's head beneath her chin and wrapping her up tightly.

"Oh, darling." Martha whispers, heartbreak in her voice, "I'm here."

Kate's just overwhelmed. This is supposed to be the first morning of her married life. Castle's supposed to be in the bed bedside her. They're supposed to go away on their honeymoon today. Suddenly everything that stretches in front of her seems impossible to the cop. More impossible than anything she's ever had to face before, and Kate just doesn't know how to do this. She just can't live a life without him, he is her life – he's everything.

Then it registers with Kate that Martha is subtly shaking and Kate pushes herself back a little, her hands coming to rest gripping firmly onto the older woman's wrists.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, hurrying to add, "For losing it so completely. Oh, God, Martha, what am I supposed to do? How are we supposed to be without him? Any of us. Not just me - what about Alexis?

Castle's mother shakes her head; tears are coursing down her face now and Kate thinks it might be the first time since they got the news that the actress has cried. Kate closes her eyes on a wave of guilt, she did this, she thinks. She forced Martha to be the strong one. And how are any of them supposed to be strong here? How? Rick is gone . . .

Again the air rushes out of Kate's lungs, the center of her body seizing up in agony in a physical response to the thoughts running through her head. She can't . . .

Surprisingly strong, small hands grasp hers. "Katherine. Katherine, look at me."

Kate opens her eyes, focuses on the other woman's face.

"We have to be sure," Martha says. "Before we do anything else, before we-"The actress stops suddenly, pausing to draw a shaky breath before she continues. "Before we accept this, accept that Richard is dead and give in to the grief – we have to be _sure._"

Kate shakes her head sadly, "Martha, I saw his car, I watched it burn. If Castle was alive, somehow he would _be_ here."

"Katherine-"

"Don't." Kate pleads softly, her head dropping on her shoulders as they slump.

"You can't just give up." Martha says.

She hears him then, as clear as day. He could be in the room with them and speaking to her.

'_You can't give up. That's the deal. We want the happy ending, we can't give up.'_

In her mind's eye she pictures him, smiling at her on that bench. Her Castle, so damn handsome with his charming, crooked smile, and vivid blue eyes so full of love for her. It makes her realize that Martha is right. If there is any chance, no matter how small or hopeless it might be. If Castle were here in her shoes right now, if she'd been the one en-route to their wedding – well she knows what he'd be saying.

She's about to reply when her cell goes off on the other side of the room. The women look at each other until Kate shakes her head - she can't face anyone, except of course . . .

Tugging her hands free of Martha's, Kate vaults from the bed. The sudden movement blackens the edges of her vision, sets her head swimming; she snatches up the phone anyway.

One glance at the screen and her stomach clenches.

"It's Lanie," she says, looking over at Martha helplessly.

Martha looks a little ashen.

"Wait, before you answer that. I should tell you I asked them - the boys and Lanie, I asked them to investigate." Martha explains hurriedly.

Kate swallows hard, looks back down at the still ringing cell phone, her thumb hovers over the screen indecisively, even though she knows not answering it doesn't change anything. Hell, she doesn't know for sure that this call is about that anyway.

Stalling a single heartbeat more, she finally accepts the call just before it would hit her voicemail.

"Hey, Lanie," she says shakily.

"Kate," her friend responds, wasting no time to deliver her news. "It isn't him. The body they found in Castle's Mercedes. Kate, are you listening to me? It isn't him."


	3. All I know is trapped inside your eyes

_It's late at night and I can't sleep  
Missing you just runs too deep  
Oh I can't breathe thinking of your smile  
Every kiss I can't forget  
This aching heart ain't broken yet  
Oh God I wish I could make you see  
Cause I know this flame isn't dying  
So nothing can stop me from trying_

_Baby you know that_  
_Maybe it's time for miracles_  
_Cause I ain't giving up on love_  
_You know that_  
_Maybe it's time for miracles_  
_Cause I ain't giving up on love_  
_No I ain't giving up on us_

* * *

'**Time for Miracles' Adam Lambert**

* * *

**Chapter Two: **All I know is trapped inside your eyes.

* * *

_It isn't him. It isn't him. Oh, thank God._

The relief buckles her knees beneath her and Kate sinks shakily, like an ungainly baby deer onto the floor. Her eyes find Martha's across the bedroom, shining with tears that Castle's mother misreads.

The actress's face drops, mouth quivering as she tries to contain what Kate can see are sobs. Kate immediately shakes her head, curves her lips determinedly into a wide if watery smile, and she doesn't have to say anything, Martha follows that her conversation with Lanie isn't what she thought it was instantly. The actress's left hand clamps over her mouth and she just stares at Kate wide-eyed and in shock. For all that she's been the person pushing for them all to wait and be sure before they gave into grief, the gesture just demonstrates how very much emotion Martha has been keeping crammed in.

"Kate, are you still there?" Lanie's voice is anxious as it comes over the line, and Kate drags her attention back to it, struggling to breathe evenly, calm the frantic racing of her heart.

"I'm here," she murmurs. "I'm just . . . Lane if it wasn't Castle, then what the hell is going on here? Where is he?"

Lanie blows out a soft breath on the other end, and something in the small sound is scary, it sends ice down the length of Kate's spine.

"Lanie?" she asks. "What is it?"

There's nothing but pause the other end, almost as if the Medical Examiner is afraid to reveal something over the phone.

"Lanie-"Kate repeats.

Dr. Parish sighs unhappily, "I wish I had better news. We don't know where he is, Kate. Castle, I mean. But I think you need to come over to the Hampton's police precinct, as soon as you can. What we have got is an ID on the body, and it's raising a lot of questions over here. And there is some evidence that's been recovered from around the scene of the crash. It was completely staged, Kate. And so obviously done that it becomes apparent the moment you start looking at it. The person who did this wasn't trying to make this look like an accident; it looks far more as if they were trying to send a message."

The icy sensation from before trips down Beckett's back again and her brow creases with worry, "A message? Lanie are you saying they took him? That someone faked the crash of his car and then they took Rick?"

"Kate, just get down here."

"Lanie, answer me."

There's another long pause before Lanie complies, and her voice when it comes is low and compassionate. "I didn't want to do this over the phone Kate, but the body in Castle's car belongs to Rogan O'Leary."

Beckett drops the phone.

* * *

Crashing through the door into what passes for a bullpen in the tiny Hamptons' Police precinct, Beckett is a picture perfect vision of a woman on a mission – albeit a devastated one.

She finds her team waiting for her.

The boys give her tight, tired smiles and Kate takes a moment to ponder the fact that it doesn't look as if either of her partners has slept yet, and she silently loves them more for all that they do for her. Lanie doesn't look any better. But while the boys are still in wedding garb, Lanie has acquired a set of scrubs from somewhere – most probably when she was endeavoring to fulfill Martha's request.

Lanie doesn't bother with a smile; she just reaches for Kate's hand, grasping it.

"Tell me honestly," she asks, "How are you doing?"

Kate shakes her head.

"Like I'm in a nightmare and any moment now I'm going to be able to wake up," she answers quietly. "I thought Castle was dead, I really thought he was gone and . . . no words could convey what that felt like, Lane. Then you tell me the body in the car isn't his, and the relief - it's overwhelming, but then where is he?" Pinning her best friend with a tortured gaze she says, "Is it really Rogan? Lanie are you a hundred percent sure?"

The M.E nods, squeezes Kate's hand a little tighter.

"I'm sure. The body was badly burned but its teeth were all intact. Rogan's been in and out of the penal system for years, Kate - his dental records are a perfect match."

Kate's eyes drop to the floor, "I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I should know better than to question you."

"It's fine. You had to ask." Lanie brushes the apology aside. "But, Kate, what's more important for you to understand is that Rogan didn't die in the crash. He was dead hours before that car went over the edge and blew.

Startled, Kate looks up, "What?"

_What the hell is going on?_

Lanie looks apologetic, "Kate, Rogan was murdered. Shot right through the heart. The damage from the fire obscured it a little at first, but the moment we began a proper autopsy it was obvious the trauma to the body from the crash was all postmortem. I pulled the slug that killed him myself, Chief Brady took custody of it and his people are running it through ballistics looking for a match right now."

Kate stares at Lanie hard and Dr. Parish can see the wheels beginning to spin within her friend's brilliant detective's mind, the whys and who's and any possible motives for the bizarre circumstances of the last twenty-four hours.

"This is personal." Kate muses aloud at length, "Highly personal. Whoever did this, to kill Rogan and then stage his body in a crash that's initially meant to look as if it's killed Castle - this is all about me."

Esposito nods, agreeing with her. "You and/or Castle," he says softly. "But no doubt the sick sonofabitch behind this has a real grudge. I mean to get rid of one husband and then promptly make off with his replacement . . . "He gets no further because Ryan punches his partner's arm hard at this point, shooting him as fierce a 'death-glare' as Javi's ever seen.

The handsome Latino detective quickly reviews his words and looks contrite; he rubs at his arm as he hastily apologizes. 'Sorry, Beckett, that kinda got away from me, came out wrong. I just meant that all we've learned so far is so precisely _aimed._ Let's face it, Rogan O'Leary and Richard Castle only have one thing in common – and that's you."

Kate nods, finds a small smile to let Javi know she isn't holding the small lack of tact against him. She knows he's stressed and that he's been up all night on her behalf - trying to get her the answers he knew that she would need.

"Forget it, Javi," she says evenly. "Bottom line is you're right. Their single connection _is _me." Kate says, her eyes closing on a wave of pain.

She's horribly sorry about Rogan. Not because she ever loved him, or because her foolish and until recently unremembered marriage to him meant anything to her, but because he wasn't a bad guy really. Not in his heart, and she hates to think that someone wanting to hurt her, killed him because of such a long ago and fleeting association. Poor Tildy, she thinks. The woman loves Rogan, and she's lost him and doesn't even know it yet. Dammit, none of this makes any sense at all, hell it's almost impossible to comprehend that this is happening. That Castle not making their wedding really means that someone has him. That someone who hates them has stepped into their world on what was supposed to be the most important day of their lives, and coldly, deliberately, calculatingly, destroyed it.

She hates it. Fury burns at the center of her soul whenever something threatens Richard Castle, and when she finds this person, and she will –she will, all her hunting instincts are fully to the fore, for whoever has done this there will be _no_ safe place to stand. She swears it.

"Hmmmm." Ryan hums looking thoughtful suddenly.

"What if it's more than that?" he muses. "O'Leary was a career criminal. Not the violent kind granted, but a career criminal nonetheless. What if he was involved in whatever this is, involved with whoever has taken Castle?"

Javi picks up on his partner's line of thinking. "Plausible bro, but why take him out and leave his body in Castle's place? I mean it's not like we would immediately think to question him in regards to Castle going missing?'

There's a silence as the four of them scramble with their thoughts.

Kate breaks it, "Unless, maybe we would have."

The boys look at her curiously and she continues, "Everything that's gone on the last four days-" she begins, "At the time all I focused on was _how _to fix my past with Rogan and facilitate my marriage to Castle. And then one after another more things went wrong. All of it culminating with Castle alone on that road and forced into driving up here at the last moment. You already told me that it's been easily established that the crash didn't happen as it at first glance appeared. What if this whole thing was set-up? Not just the crash, but all the events that pushed us into moving the wedding out here in the first place? Rogan included."

Lanie speaks, "Well it would explain something that's been seriously bugging me?" she says.

"What's that?" Kate asks.

"How the hell you got through a background check with the Attorney General's office without a fifteen year old marriage to a convict showing up? Think about it-" The M.E. continues, "Those things are farmed out to Homeland Security, and no-one but no-one is going to get the kind of top-secret security clearance you got, Kate – with Rogan O'Leary a skeleton in their closet."

Ryan nods, "Now that you mention it, even when we were messing with you about it, Beckett, I did kinda wonder the same thing."

Kate looks to Esposito, who shrugs.

"Can't say it didn't cross my mind too," he admits.

Kate blows out a breath, "Why didn't any of you say anything?" she says.

Three sheepish looks are all the response she gets. And after staring at her friends helplessly for what feels like way too long, Kate takes charge as a line of investigation opens up in front of her.

"Okay," she says decidedly. "Then first things first, clear it with Chief Brady and then we go and see Rogan's girlfriend, Tildy. I can't see a plausible reason for Rogan to wanna fake a marriage to me, but money was always a motivating factor with him, so maybe someone else approached him about our history, and maybe the Vegas story comes out. If someone dangled enough cash in front of him, made it seem like a harmless dupe - hack a computer, fake a marriage entry, this I can see Rogan going along with it. But that means Tildy was in on it too, so we need to find out what she knows. With Rogan murdered it's possible she's in danger too."

They get to Tildy McGuire's a few hours later, only to discover her strangled, the triple stranded green and white nylon rope cutting viciously into the mottled skin of her neck, and Kate's already shattered world collapses again as the truth of this hits her.

"It's him," she whispers, turning truly terrified eyes on her partners as Tildy's CD player calmly repeats 'We'll Meet Again' in the background, the chaos that was once a homey living room lies all around them, and it's a macabre metaphor not lost on any of them.

Her voice is broken as reality spills from her lips, "It's Tyson who's behind this. Who's taken Castle."


	4. Oceans and the distance

**A/N: To all the lovely reviewers of the previous chapter, THANK YOU.**

* * *

_You and I got something that's so rare  
Nothing comes close, nothing can compare  
They can say, they can do what they wanna  
Cause we get stronger like rain and thunder_

_Every time they try to tear our love apart_  
_We get tired of their look, love you have my heart_  
_They can say, they can do what they wanna_  
_Cause we get stronger like rain and thunder_

_Our love is like a movement_  
_And I've become so bright_  
_Without your love behind me_  
_I don't think I'd survive_

_You made me so happy_  
_And you're the reason why_  
_I keep on climbing higher_  
_You keep my hope alive_

'**Rain & Thunder' Leona Lewis**

* * *

**Chapter Three: **Oceans and the distance.

* * *

He has moments of lucidity, but they are often fleeting and always come with another beating. Still, he welcomes them. He has to get away; he needs to be mentally clear enough to put his mind to work coming up with a way out of this. They tell him Kate isn't coming, she isn't looking, that she thinks he's dead, but Castle doesn't believe them. He knows they aren't that kind. Not to him and certainly not to Kate.

There's something in Tyson's face when he says Kate's name, when he spits it at Castle and it's so full of venom and hatred that the Triple Killer's ultimate goal becomes startlingly and gut-wrenchingly transparent. It would have been a kindness for Tyson to have convinced Kate that he was dead, and what Tyson's planning is certainly not kind.

It's a fate far worse than death, for both of them.

Still, Rick hangs onto every precious moment of consciousness anyway; the drugs they're constantly filling his system with steal his dreams.

* * *

Esposito sets a coffee down on Kate's desk with gentle precision, loudly enough to rouse her slowly from her daydreams, not loudly enough to startle her. She doesn't know how he manages it; Castle always could, but never anyone else, at least not until now.

Glancing up, she gives him both a smile and a thank-you, and forces down the pointless resentment that's bubbling in her gut. Her partner is just watching her back, being his usual honest, warm and wonderful self, it isn't Espo's fault there's only one person she actually wants to see.

"Did you get any sleep at all?" He asks, concern radiating from his dark brown eyes even as he wins the fight to keep traces of worry off of his face. An effort she appreciates, concern shouldn't be spared for her, she's fine – she is, but Castle . . .

"Nightmares," she mumbles, closing down the thought and dropping her gaze from Espo to the curls of steam rising up from her coffee. Reaching out a hand that shakes, but only barely perceptively, Kate wraps it around the warm blue ceramic and tugs the beverage towards her with gratitude. "Just nightmares," she reiterates. Understatement is what it is. Although frankly her waking hours are one long nightmare, so waking or sleeping - what's the difference really?

Perhaps the illusion of some tiny amount of control, she muses, the fact that the waking nightmare might still lead her to a living Castle, while her sleeping ones never do. In the terrors that plague the dark hours she always finds him far, far too late.

An involuntary shudder ripples through her and Kate fights to suppress it, she doesn't want it seen. She will not show weakness - not here where she has to be the leader, the fierce and indomitable one, the one who hunts and finds and never backs down. She brought down a US Senator, found her mother's killer against all the odds and after so many years. So she will _find _Castle. She will, and when she does she will rain down all the flames of vengeance on the man bent on destroying what she's waited her whole life to find and build.

Espo's warm, strong hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes slightly, before he backs off and waits for her to look back up at him again.

"You are the strongest person I've ever met," he says quietly - when her dark eyes finally meet his. "And we will succeed at this."

Kate holds his gaze and seeks out doubts, searching his face like a thief looting a room, but she can't find any, he believes fully in what he's saying. Her lips manage to turn up at the corners, some small semblance of smile for him, and she lets his confidence in her, in their team, reinforce her own.

"So," he says, seating himself precariously on the edge of her desk and strategically avoiding the more logical choice of Castle's vacant chair. "What's the morning update from Brady?"

Kate stares at her coffee mug again, suddenly needing to blink back the pinprick of tears, "He thinks he's out of leads," she answers softly.

Espo frowns, but the truth is it has been a week since the faked crash, the cancelled wedding. A week since everything unraveled around them all, and in that span of time every lead that either they, or the Hamptons' Police have managed to turn up has dead-ended nowhere.

They know that Castle's car was hit by a black Escalade and most likely run off the road, and this is when they believe Castle's abduction must have occurred. But although they have paint chips recovered from the stretch of highway close to where Castle's burned out Mercedes was recovered, they haven't been able to find the other vehicle. Not reported stolen, not found abandoned, not turning up in any body shops for damage repairs. Not in three states, so they're spreading the net wider now from there.

Tyson's M.O is consistent with Tildy's murder, hell it's his signature, but there's nothing else linking him to the crime. And while they can link Rogan to Tyson - through an overlapping three weeks in the same jail a few years back, there's no actual evidence of a friendship, or any relationship for that matter, between them.

There's a money trail. It shows Tildy's savings account growing very fat recently, but they cannot trace the source. One account leads to another, and another, and another until the maze of electronic transfers suddenly arrives at a Cayman Island's account. At this point they hit a solid wall of international banking privacy restrictions that could take years of legal wrangling in order for them to breach.

Kate's ruined dress – known now as the burst pipe that actually wasn't. More like a break-in into the apartment above hers and the rather brutal actions of a fire axe. Nothing else was damaged and nothing at all was taken. Weirder still, all the CTV footage from the apartment building shows no-one entering or leaving close to the time the break-in must have occurred. And if the footage has been tampered with, then tech can't find any evidence of it.

Arson was responsible for the fire at the original wedding venue, clear traces of accelerant everywhere. The Fire Marshall says it wasn't 'remotely subtle', but that's all they've learned, the CTV cameras and any footage they might have recorded were destroyed in the blaze.

Jerry Tyson is letting them all suspect it's him, that all that's happened is intimately connected, while still giving them no way at all to prove any of it. His message is pretty damn clear 'My game, my rules', but beyond the fact he's got Rick, they have no idea of what it is he's intending to accomplish.

And what are they to do with that?

So Kate's terrified – they all are, that maybe Tyson's already accomplished what he wanted to do? Led them into thinking Castle's been abducted, when really he's truly dead, and Tyson's watching them chase their tales daily, their hopes fading slowly until they realize he never intends on letting them know the truth. 'Mystery writer' _becomes_ a missing mystery - a murder they cannot even find.

This is the possibility that this morning Chief Brady dared to hypothesize, and it's real, she knows this, but it defies the reasoning's of her heart, her belief that if Castle were really gone, she would somehow _feel _it.

Somehow, someway, Kate just believes – she would know.

But that still leaves her facing the questions of where to look next? And how, if Tyson isn't calling to gloat, she figures out the real purpose of all of this?

Espo's voice pulls her back, "We stay on the search for the car," he says decisively, reading her thoughts and stating his opinion. "Tyson musta used it to take Castle away with him, so somewhere it has to either show up on a traffic cam, or be seen by a witness. I don't care if we have to comb through footage from all fifty states, Beckett. Somewhere that Escalade has been recorded or been seen with damage visible from the initial collision, we're finding that damn car."

She hates to point it out but . . .

"What if he had an accomplice? Hmmm . . . then maybe we're wrong, Espo. Maybe the Escalade just forces Rick off the road, and then Tyson abducts him in a totally different vehicle. For all we know the Caddy's sitting in a garage somewhere, safe from all prying eyes and no matter how hard we look they'll be nothing to find?" Her voice has a coating of despair on it, despite the edge of steel.

Esposito is having none of it.

"Occam's razor," he replies, his eyebrow climbing and silently challenging her.

Beckett blows out a breath.

'_In the absence of certainty – the fewer assumptions made the better.'_

"Always the cop's best friend," she answers wryly.

Her partner nods.

"We have to keep going until we can rule that hypothesis out," he points out. "Even if Tyson does have help - and we've never tracked 'psycho doctor bitch' since she skipped town, one vehicle is still our simplest theory."

Kate concedes.

"You're right, and even with a second vehicle, we need physical evidence to work with. The rope that killed Tildy was clean of epithelia's, the bullet that killed Rogan was an untraceable round. We stay on the car."

* * *

This time when he comes around his surroundings have changed from the cheap motel room they've previously had him stashed in. Everything is clean and white, and the bed he's laying on looks just like a hospital one – it even has the requisite rails.

Castle swallows, his lips are so very dry and he's incredibly thirsty. He frowns, that's a common theme the last . . . God, he's lost track of time. He's been out of it so much that there's no way for him to know how long it's been. It feels like just a couple of days but it could of course be far longer, still, he's definitely always very thirsty when he wakes up. He's not sure if that's because it's a long while each time that they keep under, or if its just a side-effect of whatever they keep giving him.

Either way, he feels like he's starting to fade away.

How did he get here?

If this is actually a hospital, then has he been found? But if that were true, then wouldn't Kate be here?

The author goes to sit up, but he's got only enough strength to roll over onto his side and that's when he discovers the handcuffs around his left wrist, securing him to the bed.

So he's definitely not safe then.

Castle flops back onto his back and huffs out a huge exhale of pure frustration, and then it occurs to him that this is the very first time he's awoken alone. A frantic debate starts in his head, he's secured but this room looks like a facility. So if he calls out, maybe whoever comes in won't be Tyson or Kelly Nieman, and if it is then he's hasn't lost anything. On the other hand, maybe he can pick the handcuffs and then he'd be free, except that he's got nothing on him. Castle looks down at his attire, a pale green hospital gown, his eyes search the bed, the room . . . nothing he can reach to act as a lock-pick.

Yelling it is.

Swallowing roughly again - Castle finds his voice,

"HELP! HELP! Someone, please . . . Help me."


	5. The quiet chaos is drving me mad

_If you were here beside me instead of in New York  
If the curve of you was curved on me  
I'd tell you that I loved you before I ever knew you  
'Cause I loved the simple thought of you_

_If our hearts are never broken then there's no joy in the mending  
There's so much this hurt can teach us both  
There's distance and there's silence, your words have never left me  
They're the prayer that I say every day_

_Come on, come out, come here, come here_  
_Come on, come out, come here, come here_  
_Come on, come out, come here, come here_  
_Come on, come out, come here, come here_

_The lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean  
And the fire that was starting to spark  
I miss it all, from the love to the lightning  
And the lack of it snaps me in two_

_If you were here beside me instead of in New York_

_In the arms you said you'd never leave_

_I'd tell you that it's simple, and it was only ever us_

_There is nowhere else that I belong_

* * *

'**New York' Snow Patrol**

* * *

**Chapter Four: **The quiet chaos is driving me mad.

* * *

It's Dr. Neiman who comes in answer to his cries for help.

He'd be lying if he said his stomach doesn't sink the moment she appears in the room, a sickly smile on her admittedly lovely face that just chills something way down deep inside him. He lies back on the bed he's handcuffed to with the barest sigh of frustration, his eyes closing for a moment as he tries to calm his racing heart. Truth is Castle's almost, almost, more afraid of her than he is of Jerry Tyson.

Tyson's just crazy. Crazy clever, crazy sick, and in at least some ways the Triple Killer is crazy predictable. Castle knows that if Jerry Tyson is involved in something it will be, a) Very well planned, b) Very hard to see coming, and c) In hindsight it will all leave a beautiful if deranged web of connections behind it.

Tyson doesn't like killing as much as he likes to plan to ruin, control and destroy. He gets off more on relishing the thought of your suffering, the way in which he will bring you down and force you to submit to him. The author can still vividly recall 3XK gloating about it to him when he'd had Castle locked up in the 12th Precinct's holding, _'People think it's killing that I like, but murder is just an act. It's all about the anticipation, the planning - watching you and your daughter taking a walk, you and Beckett making love. Standing in your living room, being inside your life - knowing that I'm going to take it all away from you. That's what I like.' _

But Dr. Kelly Nieman – she's an almost unknown entity. The ice-princess plastic surgeon clearly obsessed with perfection. Involved in this up to her slender, elegant neck, and in the few lucid moments Castle's been able to observe her interaction with Tyson, he'd put all his money on them being lovers - at least some of the time.

He just doesn't get it.

The woman is beautiful, highly educated and accomplished. And yet if she's involved herself with Tyson, with his plots and schemes and murders, then does it also follow that she's as psychotic as he is? What is it that she's getting out of this involvement? Does she truly care for Tyson, or is she just attracted to the danger that he represents? Why isn't she afraid that she could become his next victim?

The writer inside him needs desperately to understand, if he understands maybe it will help him figure out a way to get this woman to assist him. Maybe he can even persuade her let him go.

Of course he could try just asking her.

"If you help me get out of here I won't tell them you were a part of it," he offers gently, his voice as low pitched and calm as he can currently manage to make it.

The surgeon laughs. In fact it would be far more accurate to say she 'she cracks up' as it goes on for a while.

Okay, maybe not then.

Grimacing inwardly, Castle tries another track.

"You aren't any safer than me,' he says, his gaze steady, serious, studying her carefully. This is one of the only times he's come to consciousness and felt relatively clear-headed, he needs to make it count. "Tyson's not stable, he's only using you. And just like all the others he's cozied up to and used before when you outlive that usefulness, Doctor - he'll take you out as surely as he's planning to with me."

He knows his words are another miss when Dr. Nieman steps closer and raises her hand to brush it through his hair. Her smile has widened, stretching confidently across her heart-shaped face. It's absolutely bone-chilling.

"Aren't you sweet," she tells him, "Trying to warn me, get me on your side. But you're also wrong. Jerry would never hurt me, he finds me far too fascinating, and he knows _exactly_ how his desires dovetail with mine. We're partners every bit a much as you and Beckett. And ours is a _very_ mutually beneficial relationship."

It's now Castle's turn to bark out a harsh laugh.

"What could you possibly be getting out of helping him with this? Sex? That must be some roll in the hay because it's not money. If every person who loves me believes that I'm dead then it isn't that. So what is it huh? Tell me what could possibly be in this for you?"

Dr. Neiman leans closer, "The perfect challenge," she gloats. "Jerry's desires – his goals, they present me with such stimulating challenges. And what I get to make are walking, talking works of art, Mr. Castle, the accessories a man as powerful as 3XK needs to destroy the lives of his oppressors. And the gratitude of a genius is a heady thing."

She pulls back then, extracting her fingers from his hair and trailing them down across his temple before she brushes them against the week's worth of hair growth that now covers his jaw line. It should be a tender gesture; the passage of her fingers is gentle, almost reverent, but there's nothing loving or caring behind it. It's clinical and calculated and designing.

Castle swallows hard. For the first time there's a demented gleam in her eyes, and it sinks in that her association with Tyson is exactly what she says it is - mutual. She's getting off on this as surely as 3XK.

"You're as crazy as he is," he says, adding - with a bravado he doesn't feel, "And you aren't going to get away with this – either of you."

The plastic surgeon doesn't reply, she just bends and kisses him on the forehead and Castle feels like he's just been marked by the devil. Then as she straightens she bestows on him an almost fond smile, before she pulls the ever-present hypodermic from the pocket of her dress pants, uncapping it slowly. Castle shudders. He's already become accustomed to what follows.

* * *

Kate tugs at her hair and winds it round her fingers impatiently before she pulls them free and rubs them hard over her tired eyes. Rolling her head on her shoulders the cop tries to work the cramps out of her stiff neck; every part of her seems to be suffering. Even the tips of her toes just want her to crawl away into bed and sleep. It's late, the Bullpen is deserted and its way past the point she should have called it a night and headed for home.

She won't though. She can't. Ten days have elapsed since her aborted wedding and she's no closer now than she was then to bringing her fiancé home. Castle's out there somewhere, depending on her, and with every second that ticks by on her father's watch she's failing him.

She's failing all of them.

Not just Castle, but Alexis, Martha. Maybe even Javi, Kevin, Lanie and Gates too.

They still can't find it - the Escalade that took him away. They've gone round and around in ever decreasing circles trying to, the search like a metaphor for her life, slowly swirling down the drain.

And she's finding it hard to live with being so stuck like this; it's too like her mother's case all over again, brick wall after brick wall, suspecting so much but having nothing to go on. And she just knows that Tyson is getting exactly what he wants right now, evil smug bastard. Suspects that somehow he's keeping tabs on their fruitless investigation and he's loving every minute as he watches for the one when she breaks.

She knows she's getting closer and closer to it every moment.

Beckett drops her head down into the cradle of her hands, she tries to recall the cadence of his voice, see in her minds eye his heart-stopping smile. This is what you're fighting for, she reminds herself sternly as she forces Castle's image to center her. So think, Kate - _think. _There _has_ to be something that you're missing.

The phone on her desk goes off, making her jump in the dim, soundless room. She picks it up almost distractedly.

"Beckett," she answers without enthusiasm.

"Detective Kate Beckett?" The voice on the line is male, deep, all business although his tone is a little disbelieving.

"Yes, who's asking?" she snaps.

"Ma'am this is Sheriff Doug McLean, New Hampshire State Patrol. We have something that apparently you've been looking for?"

Kate's heart leaps.

"You've found Richard Castle?" she asks, almost stumbling over the words in her haste to get them out.

It sinks again as the trooper replies, "No Ma'am. But we have taken into custody a Cadillac Escalade, black, with collision damage to the front passenger side. We ran the plates and they came back clean, but then we realized it matched a BOLO we got last week from the NYPD."

Her heart has begun pounding as she listens. And Kate can't help the skyward look of thanks she silently sends up. Just when she was truly losing all hope it looks like at least one her prayers has finally been answered.

Blowing out a silent breath and willing her body to calm the hell down she says, "Sheriff, we have reason to believe that vehicle was used in an abduction. Any trace evidence left behind might make all the difference in our case, the individual who was taken is still missing. _Please_ tell me you have that vehicle somewhere secure and that it's either been thoroughly processed by an expert, or better yet not touched at all. I can't stress to you enough how crucial this is."

"Well, Ma'am, we opened the door, but once we discovered that there was a body inside we just proceeded to secure the scene. It's waiting on processing now, but the Coroner hasn't arrived yet, and when we got confirmation back from Dispatch that we had a possible match to your inquiry - we thought it best to inform you also. M.E's is en-route from Salem and he's really thorough, but I expect you'll be wanting to send up someone from your investigating team."

Kate feels dizzy. She's hearing his words and her brain is processing them but the moment the Sheriff mentioned a body . . .

"Is the victim inside male?" She asks, steady voice belying the fact that she's physically shaking.

"No, Ma'am. It's a female. And see here's the thing, the Vic has ID on her, and since I'm talking to you I'm guessing it's not hers."

Kate isn't following.

"I'm sorry," she says, "What makes you think that, exactly?"

"Ma'am the Vic is 5'9" looks to be in her early thirties. Brunette, long wavy hair, slender and extremely attractive, and according to the shield clipped on her jeans, Detective Beckett . . . she's you."


	6. Take my darkest fears and play them

_All that I'm living for,_  
_All that I'm dying for,_  
_All that I can't ignore alone at night._

_I can feel the night beginning._  
_Separate me from the living._  
_Understanding me,_  
_After all I've seen._  
_Piecing every thought together,_  
_Find the words to make me better._  
_If I only knew how to pull myself apart._

_All that I'm living for,_  
_All that I'm dying for,_  
_All that I can't ignore alone at night._  
_All that I'm wanted for,_  
_Although I wanted more._  
_Lock the last open door; my ghosts are gaining on me._

* * *

'**All That I'm Living For' Evanescence**

* * *

**Chapter Five: **Take my darkest fears and play them.

* * *

_Three months later . . . _

It's the replication of her own scars that she keeps coming back to.

Weird she thinks, after everything – all this time that has now elapsed and no closer to finding Castle, that it's _this_ detail that stands out to her the most, the very oddest of odd socks.

She's lost all count of the endless hours that have been spent pouring over Rick's case. Days that have vanished on her going over and over it, and she's still at it – religiously, a complete read through/re-hash daily. Despite being 'officially' forced to work fresh homicide cases, leaving the Hampton's PD to Castle's 'missing person's' one, Kate still works the evidence every day. She obsesses over it, convinced the thread is in there somewhere, the one that will make it all make some kind of sense.

She has to believe that. There's no choice in this for her because the moment she stops working on it then she loses him for real, and that's never going to be something she can bring herself to do.

They all tell her that's the point. That it has to be. And if it is, well then Jerry Tyson wins doesn't he. He wins, because there is no part of her that's walking away from this.

Finding the Escalade was supposed to be the start.

It was going to lead them somewhere – she knew it. She'd have bet her badge on it. And it's not like finding it didn't move them forward because it did. It gave the investigation a wealth of new information, Castle's DNA inside of it for starters. His hair, traces of his blood, fibers from the tuxedo that he would have been wearing.

Tyson even left them the wedding rings that should have been safe in Castle's pocket. She wore them around her neck for a day or so, until she saw them in the bathroom mirror and it felt like all those years before him all over again. Loss reared up in her so hard and so fast that she smashed the glass with her fist and was forced to get stitches. She put them diligently in the safe in his office after that. Close and accessible, but she won't wear them in mourning; she won't wear them as symbol of the day her life ended. Instead she seeks to preserve the purity of what they are and let them remain the symbol of her life beginning that they should represent.

Staring down at the open case file on her desk, Beckett studies for the thousandth time the series of crime scene photos that look as if they're hers. Graphic color images of the copy of her own body as it sits slumped sideways in the passenger seat of the abandoned SUV. Cause of death . . . unknown. Unlike Rogan – who was shot, and Tildy – who was strangled, her duplicate's death puzzled them until toxicology came back. Poison - such a very un-Tyson like method for killing someone that it threw them all.

There's a message in it, in that choice, she knows it. But she has absolutely no idea what it is. And what's worse - in three months since her duplicate was discovered, they haven't been able to establish _who_ she really is. No hits with either missing persons or any criminal database, not fingerprints, not DNA.

"Detective Kate Beckett' is the only identity this poor young woman seems to have, and it's a fabrication.

_And round and round it goes, where it stops - nobody knows._

Blowing out a tired breath, Kate snags her fingers in her honey-colored hair and sighs. Giving up on the crime scene photos, her attention is pulled through the file to the autopsy ones. The ones she keeps coming back to over and over, like she knows that there is something there she's meant to see but doesn't. She's spent so much time on them now that it no longer freaks her out to study what could be her own corpse; she's slipped into a sick fascination with them instead. With how the details of this woman have all been altered to so perfectly up with match her own.

Her doppelganger is the same height and the same weight. The cut and coloring of her hair is a perfect down-to-the-same-exact-shade match. Her hands even looks like Kate's, slender but strong, short neat nails trimmed for practicality, imitating Kate's preferred style. She has mole on her left cheek that's in a slightly different spot but really not by so very much. Her twin even has the same even white teeth and therefore presumably a similar smile.

And the uncanny resemblance is a long way from natural - Lanie's best estimate is dozens of individual surgeries. From cheek implants and breast reduction surgery, to rhinoplasty, chin reduction and dental veneers, a whole lot of time and a lot of investment. But for what?

Yet it's the _scars_ that continue to bug Kate. What could possibly be the purpose of faking those? And there's no doubt to it, Lanie conclusively concluded that all three of them have been surgically 'created'. There's a perfectly circular 'bullet' entry wound between the duplicate's breasts, a long thin scar down her left ribcage and a copy of Kate's actual surgery scar beneath the doppelganger's left breast. All the exact same hallmarks Kate has from surviving her shooting, but Lanie says the victim has never been shot. All the scars have been etched into her skin to match with Kate's, but you'd really only ever see them if the duplicate was nude.

It seems so very pointless, duplication for duplications sake, but she knows that it isn't like an ache in her gut. The very deliberateness of it calls to her even now as it did three months prior. How very carefully it's been done in placement and size.

Castle always called the scars her 'badges of honor', used to tell her that he loved her even more for them, for the reminder to cherish life that they so perfectly represented. It irks her that Tyson has used them to make a mockery, a 'false' Kate. Bewilders her that he would somehow entice this woman to 'become' her to such an extent that she would go through with wearing these real scars upon her body.

It sends shivers down her spine, it really does, most especially when she's alone as she is now. Just another late night without inspiration.

"You know you shouldn't be here so late, Kate Beckett. It's really not healthy."

Kate startles, jumping from her chair, shaky fingers reaching instinctively for her gun despite the relative safety of the precinct.

"Oh my God," she breathes. "It's _you_."

Jackson Hunt, or is it Anderson Cross stands before her. Black clad and as ruggedly handsome as his son, Castle's father smiles softly at her, his head tilted to the side as he eyes the hand she has wrapped around her gun.

"I'm not here to hurt you, Kate. You can relax, I promise."

Eying the older man with suspicion, Kate forcibly reminds herself that this is her fiancé's sire. And although the man has never properly fulfilled that role, Kate knows that in his own way this man cares about his child, and his child's family. He's certainly not a threat to her.

Heart rate slowing and her breathing coming under control as the quick spike of adrenaline fueled by his appearance begins to subside, Kate re-holsters her weapon, but remains standing before him.

"What are you doing here?" She asks.

The CIA operative eyes her speculatively for a long moment before he deigns to reply.

"You look exhausted young lady," he says, almost fondly. "I suggest that you sit down before you fall down."

Beckett bristles. Who the hell is this man to tell her to do anything? And why the hell has he come out of the woodwork now?

"I'm fine," she snaps. "Just answer the question, Jackson. Or is it Anderson? Or would you like me to use another 'fake' name? Answer the question and tell me why the hell you are here?"

"To help of course." The operative answers gently. And turning from her slightly, Hunt takes a seat, folding his large frame into his son's vacant chair. He crosses his legs and leans back, making himself at home as if it's not late into the evening and he's just dropped by socially. He raises a dark brow, and then shifts his gaze from Kate to her chair and back again, waiting.

Beckett closes her eyes in momentary frustration, and then does as she's been bid; retaking her seat, she turns her chair to more directly face him.

"What help can you offer me?" She says after studying him silently for a long moment. "Where have you been and do you even know _any_ of the details of what has gone on?"

Hunt doesn't immediately answer any of her inquiries.

"I'm so sorry," he says instead. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you right after it happened. I feel like I could have prevented all of what's occurred if I hadn't chosen the last six months to look away."

He reaches out a hand and covers Kate's right one with his warm grip, his fingers curling to encircle hers, large hand engulfing them, just like Castle's can. Tears prick the back of her eyes and Beckett hangs her head, tries to tug her hand from under his but his grip tightens and Hunt doesn't allow her to pull away.

"I'll never forgive myself," he whispers passionately. "If my indulgent fit of self-pity means this ends badly in any way. Before I tell you anything else, Kate, please, _please_ - remember that. That I would go back and prevent him from coming to any harm at all if there was a way that I could."

The cop raises her gaze to meet dark eyes awash with a sincerity that is both startling and undoubtedly genuine. There is a sorrow etched into the lines around her partner's father's mouth, pain in the frown lines that crease his forehead, suddenly he looks older.

"You aren't responsible for this," she assures him. "You haven't exactly been a father to Rick, but I don't see anyway you could have prevented this from happening."

Hunt shakes his head sadly.

"Our last meeting I used you," he acknowledges quietly. "I used you both to help me. I mean partly of course it was because I just wanted to see him, but also I did it simply because I could. I used his curiosity and the sense of loyalty I knew he would be feeling against him, when I could have simply just asked him for his help - for your help. And after that mission, to be honest I retreated. I told myself he had his life beautifully in place and he didn't need me. It's what I've always told myself, that he was better off that way, and then by the time I looked up from my work again and decided to check on him – this thing with your wedding had all gone down. Richard was missing and I . . . "

Twisting her hand, this time its Kate's turn to tighten her grip upon him, she reaches deep inside for a small smile.

"Regret is useless – believe me," she tells him. "But you said you've come to help - and I'm glad. You must know we've been getting nowhere, but with your resources, well – maybe _you _can_."_

Hunt smiles, but it doesn't reach his dark eyes, if anything the turned up corners of his mouth only serve to make him look sadder. The bravado he appeared with has now dissipated like mist.

"Jerry Tyson was a sick, sick, psychotic little man," he says suddenly out of nowhere, and there's finality in his tone that Kate latches onto more than the actual words that he's speaking.

"What do you mean 'was'?" she asks. "What do you know? Wait . . . how much do you know? It isn't even public knowledge that Tyson is believed to be behind all of this. Castle's abduction."

Hunt's sad smile turns into a sneer, and within it Kate sees all the ruthlessness that exists inside this man. The stone-cold and highly trained government killer that she knows him to be on full display.

"He took my son," he says flatly. Dropping her gaze suddenly and staring straight ahead of him. "He took him away from his loved ones, the woman who would be his wife. He hurt him, manipulated him, tormented him and broke him, all to satisfy his own pathetic vendetta. No-one is allowed to touch _my_ family."

Ice feels like it's sliding down Beckett's spine; she shivers although the bullpen isn't cold. Hunt's words are so dead in tone and it frightens her. What does he even mean? What is he getting at?

"I thought you said you were here to help?" she says somewhat shakily. "But what you just said sounds more like you've already done something about this. What have you done? What do you know, Hunt? Hmmmm? Tell me what you know that I don't?"

Eyes gone black and furious, fathomless with a deep anguish snap right back to hers.

"I found him," he replies.

Beckett's eyes immediately widen. "Tyson?" She asks.

Hunt inclines his head. "I killed him. Both him, and his accomplice," he says. "I couldn't stop myself," he adds, cutting her off before Beckett can interject. Then he tells her, "But I wasn't actually referring to Tyson."

Kate gasps, "Then you mean?"

Hunt nods. "Richard," he says quietly. "I've found, Richard."

"Oh my God!"

Beckett leaps up out of her seat. "Why didn't you just say that right away? What are you sitting there for? Where is he? Take me to him, Hunt. You have to take me there immediately."

Hunt doesn't move. Instead he frowns and wipes a hand over his head and Kate suddenly wants to die. Oh . . . No. This can't mean . . .

"Tell me Castle's alive," she demands. "Please. _Please_ don't say . . . "

Hunt swallows and Kate's entire universe hangs waiting in the silence.

"He's alive," he replies at length, but his eyes are so desolate.

"What?" She pleads. "What is it?"

"Kate, he was tortured. Physically, emotionally, when I said before that they broke him. They did. And in the worst . . . the very worst way."

The cop steps close, and Hunt finally rises from Castle's chair and stands toe to toe with her.

"But you can take me to him?" She asks.

Castle's father studies her determined, lovely, completely distraught face. He thinks about what she's going to be facing and wishes just for a moment that he could make it all go away. But he can't, and he knows that she's strong, so strong, this woman that his son loves. So instead he sends up a silent prayer that she'll find enough strength for both of them.

"I can take you," he agrees**.**


	7. If you must falter be wise

_No more gas in the rig  
Can't even get it started  
Nothing heard, nothing said  
Can't even speak about it  
Out my life, out my head  
Don't wanna think about it  
Feels like I'm going insane  
Yeah_

_It's a thief in the night_  
_To come and grab you_  
_It can creep up inside you_  
_And consume you_  
_A disease of the mind_  
_It can control you_  
_It's too close for comfort_

'**Disturbia' Rihanna**

* * *

**Chapter Six: **If you must falter be wise.

* * *

Kate grabs the worn leather jacket hanging on the back of her chair, and shrugs it on over her thin shoulders. She looks back at Castle's father with a sinking heart, if a man this hardened to adversity and atrocities is this distraught about Rick's condition it must be really bad.

Taking a quick fortifying breath, the cop studiously ignores the nauseous feeling that has settled heavily in her stomach, squaring her stance instead. Castle's alive. He's really alive and for this moment that's all that matters.

"Let's go," she tells her companion.

But Hunt seems reluctant to move and Kate wants to shake him. Doesn't he understand that she can't stand another moment apart from Rick at this point? Three months of their life together is already gone, there's no more she can bear to waste. Hell, she might never let him out of her sight again.

"I said, let's GO."

She turns away to lead the operative out of the Bullpen and down to the parkade and her cruiser, but Hunt stalls her by catching a hold of her wrist.

"Wait," he instructs.

"No," she replies, frowning. "I _need _to see him. Can't you understand that? I need to see him right now."

"You have no idea what you're walking into." Hunt shoots back. "If I let you see him unprepared I would be doing you both a grave disservice. Trust me, Kate. I need to show you some other things first."

Tears immediately flood the detective's autumn eyes. Frustration, fear, heartache, loss, all the swirling kaleidoscope of emotions that she's been feeling for months, and she's exhausted from dealing with them.

"I want him," she whispers. "I can't . . . I need . . . "

Unable to articulate it, Kate fists her hands at her sides and wishes she had something to punch. Hunt himself maybe? He's standing in her way and doesn't he know that makes her dangerous?

What happens next is unexpected.

Hunt tugs on the wrist he's holding and pulls her towards him. She lands against his chest and he wraps his strong arms entirely around her. Kate doesn't realize it's exactly what she needs until she gives into the tears that have been threatening, and allows her partner's father to simply hold her. He's built so much like Castle it's a comfort only he could give her.

"I'm so sorry," he tells her again, his chin resting against the top of her head. "I _do_ understand that you just want to get to him, and I promise you will. But you need to begin to understand what they've done to him. The man that you love isn't the same man that you're going to find."

"Tell me," she whispers.

"Physically he doesn't look much different," Hunt begins.

Kate tenses, thinks about Dr. Kelly Neiman and what the surgeon was capable of.

"They didn't?" she asks, terrified to know as she hides her face against the CIA agent's chest.

"No," Hunt replies immediately, obviously following her train of thought, "I just mean they weren't exactly concerned with his nutritional requirements. He's lost a little weight, and he's recovering from some broken ribs and a lot of deep bruising. Physically he's okay, Kate. Given just a little time and some proper treatment he'll be as good as new."

_Oh._

"So it's his state of mind, then isn't it?" she says with trepidation. "Tyson always did get off fucking with Castle's mind?"

"Oh, he fucked with it alright."

Kate raises her head and pushes back out of Hunt's arms; he lets her go easily now that she seems ready to listen. Studying his dark eyes Kate sees the knowledge she was looking for, there's nothing she's learned that he hasn't.

"The duplicate Kate," she says. "That's the reason for her isn't it? Whatever they did to him to try and break Rick down, they used her to it."

Castle's father nods sadly.

"What do they have him believing?" she asks. "If it's that I'm dead, then surely once he sees me that'll help to fix things?"

"I wish it were that simple."

"Then what?"

Hunt sighs. "Richard's in what they term a 'fugue' state. Do you know what that is?"

Air escapes the cop's lungs in a tiny whimper, but she gets a hold of herself quickly. "A psychiatric disorder characterized by reversible amnesia for personal identity," she answers clinically. "We had a suspect in a case once. It's usually triggered by a stressful episode but can also be caused by physical trauma or even the use of psychotropic substances."

Hunt looks deadly. "Or all three," he states flatly.

Kate bites her lip until it blanches. "That son-of-a-bitch," she murmurs. "So you're telling me Rick doesn't know who he is?" she says.

"He has no clue." Castle's father replies. "But I've seen what they used to torment him with, and I've seen the drugs that they gave him to help them. Add in the physical abuse that he suffered at their hands and it would have broken anyone."

Kate's eyes flash as she says, "Castle's strong. He would have known they were messing with him."

"He would," Hunt agrees. "But the kind of paranoia and short-term memory loss that would have been caused by what they were injecting him with – Kate, you'll understand when you see what they've shown him."

"Was it her murder? Because if they convinced Castle it was mine . . . "

Hunt closes his eyes and shakes his head. When he looks at her again the apology is all over his face.

"Kate, his mind has run away because they convinced him you were betraying him."

Beckett's eyes widen and she backs away from Hunt almost automatically, the denial is falling from her lips with each step that she takes.

"Castle would never believe that. Tyson tried that one before, when he framed Rick for murder. And I never believed it. Rick wouldn't fall for that, he wouldn't. He would have seen right through it. He knows me, he knows me better than any other living soul and he trusts me, we trust each other – implicitly."

"I know," Hunt responds.

Kate shakes her head. "Then how can what you're telling me be true?" Her voice breaks in distress.

"A rational, clear-minded Richard would never have believed it. Why do you suppose they had to beat him and drug him as well? It was the only way they could accomplish it." Castle's father says calmly.

Kate protests. "But if he doesn't even know who he is, how do _you _know this is what they made him believe?"

Hunt takes a wary step closer to her. "Because a mind as strong as my son's doesn't run away from its own identity unless it's seen something it just can't bear to contemplate. And because of this," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving a small USB drive which he holds out to her.

Kate reaches for it with shaking fingers, but the CIA agent doesn't allow her to remove it from his hand, waiting until her gaze moves back to his face.

"What's on it?" She asks.

"Lies," Hunt replies, "Pornographic lies, Kate. I would spare you them if I could but I'm afraid I can't. I think you should at least see some of it, to help you comprehend."

Kate's mouth drops open, and suddenly the reason behind the duplication of her scars on her doppelganger's body makes perfect sense. Eyes wide with horror, she looks back down at the unassuming flash drive clutched between both their fingers, and she hopes Hunt killed Tyson slowly as she finally understands.

* * *

She manages just five minutes of watching her duplicate having sex with some random man in what looks like her old apartment's bedroom, before she has to dash to the washroom. Quickly emptying the meager contents of her stomach, Kate returns to the bullpen both ashen and shaken, demanding to know how the hell her twin is wearing her engagement ring.

* * *

Hunt insists on taking his car and Kate reluctantly agrees, she tells him she should call Martha and Alexis let them know Castle's okay. He shoots her a look that brooks no argument, tells her she needs to wait on informing anyone else.

Just her, he insists. Just her.

She needs to get to Castle now so she drops the matter, goes with him.

"Where are we going?" she asks, as Hunt navigates them out of the city in an unassuming silver rental Hyundai.

"Connecticut," he tells her, breaking her heart all over again.

"So close," she murmurs. "He was so close – all this time."

Hunt just nods. He doesn't say anything.

* * *

An hour and twenty minutes later, Hunt pulls into the pitch-dark grounds of a private nursing home. Kate looks at the sign, and then back at Hunt. "You've got to be kidding me?" she tells him.

The CIA agent gives a small, sad, shake of his head and swiftly exits the vehicle. The facility is named after the town where it's located, 'Killingly Castle'.

Kate tastes the bitter joke on her tongue, swallows down the bile rising in her stomach, and she follows him.

* * *

The facility is old and yet modern, it screams expensive, sticking close on Hunt's heels, Kate struggles to match his longer strides, has to pull him back as they reach the main entrance way.

"Better let me go first," she says. "I've got police ID and we're a little past visiting hours."

"Nothing to worry about," he says evenly. "This kind of place deals only with the very rich and all their associated demons. For a price, here you can get anything. Besides, they're expecting me."

He goes to enter and Kate pulls him back again. Roughly this time.

"Oh my God, you _left_ him here," she says in horror. "You didn't just locate him after you'd dealt with his abductors, you left him here – where they've held him. What the hell kind of man are you?"

For a moment Hunt seems to pale, but then his weathered face hardens.

"Don't you dare," he spits at her. "I found him, I protected him. I left him here only after I ascertained that the staff had no knowledge of what was really happening to him. Or even who he actually was. Tyson and Neiman held him under the guise of treatment, in case you didn't already notice Detective, this is a psychiatric facility. The kind of state of mind Richard is in; it was the safest option until I could get to you. And even now that you know, that you're here. I wouldn't suggest immediately removing him."

Kate glares at him.

"He's coming home. He's coming home right now, with me," she says, her voice low but it's a deadly whisper.

Hunt sighs heavily.

"You can see him. But then wait until the morning, Kate. Please just wait until then, until he wakes up and you see what you'll be dealing with. After that you can make the call, okay? After that you can inform Martha and Alexis. Please, I know how much you want this to go away, but you cannot rush to a judgment about anything."

Fuming, Kate tries desperately to hear what Castle's father is saying. Everything inside her just wants him back, wants him to be whole, hell - wants to marry him. But the rational side of her mind knows the government operative is right. Her own needs have to come after Castle's, if his mind is fractured right now; the last thing she wants is to do him more harm than good.

"Just get me to him," she says, her shoulders suddenly slumping and exhaustion settling over her. "Please. I just need to see him."

Hunt nods, and turning, he leads her into the building.

It's all a bit of a blur of slightly raised voices and insistent demands followed by what feels like a rabbit warren of sterile corridors. Eventually the orderly who is accompanying them leaves them outside a nondescript but obviously secure wooden door after unlocking it for them.

Kate's palms start sweating.

"He's inside," Hunt says gently. "If you're quiet I doubt that you'll disturb him."

She goes to open the door but Hunt stalls her.

"Be quiet," he insists." Richard doesn't remember but the fugue was caused by what he thinks he witnessed. We can't know right now what the sight of you is going to do to him."

Closing her eyes against her own memories of the video, Kate pushes the door open and silently slips past him. Hunt doesn't follow her, instead he allows the door to close, and remaining in the hall he wisely gives her this moment to just be with Rick again.

Physically trembling now, Beckett crosses the divide between the door and the bed where she can see the form of a large person sleeping. Once she's standing next to it she lets her eyes find his face, and then she's starts mutely weeping, the relief just too overwhelming.

The man in the bed is Castle.

It's really him.


	8. Just what you're worth

_When you try your best,but you don't succeed_  
_When you get what you want,but not what you need_  
_When you feel so tired,but you can't sleep_  
_Stuck in reverse_

_And the tears come streaming down your face_  
_When you lose something you can't replace_  
_When you love someone, but it goes to waste_  
_Could it be worse?_

_Lights will guide you home_  
_And ignite your bones_  
_And I will try to fix you_

* * *

'**Fix You' Coldplay**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: **Just what you're worth.

* * *

She leaves before she can't control the sobs of relief, before she can't stop herself from crawling into the bed with him and wrapping herself all around him. It's maybe the hardest thing she's ever asked of herself - to leave him now.

Outside Castle's room Kate locks eyes with his father, Hunt opens his arms to her, his face uncertain and wide-open and she grabs hold of the proffered lifeline, almost slamming into the older man and holding on tight.

"You have to have faith," Hunt whispers vehemently in her ear. "You have to be stronger than you've ever been; he's going to need your strength _so_ badly."

She nods against his chest and fights with her emotions, desperately trying to bring them back under her control. Castle's been the rock of her existence pretty much since the moment they met, the one who talks her down when she needs it, the one whose voice she silently listened to even when she pushed him away. He was the one who always got through, got her, made her stronger and better and more extraordinary, and she can't fail now. This is his life she's fighting for and she will find a way to lead him back to it.

She steps out of Hunt's embrace with a small smile wryly curling her lip, "We're making a habit of this," she says quietly.

The CIA operative chuckles, "I'm not complaining," he says. "But I wish the circumstances were a hell of a lot different. And I would so much rather see you in Richard's arms instead."

_Oh._

Kate swallows hard, need rising up in her suddenly, triggered by what she pictures with those words.

_Oh, Castle._

Face crumbling again, the cop asks, "Tell me you made them suffer. Tell me they died slowly."

Hunt's face shutters and his eyes grow dark; he doesn't want her to want that, though God knows how he understands it. Dropping Kate's gaze he studies the vinyl floor for a long moment before he confesses, "The woman died quickly, I couldn't drag that out."

"And what about Tyson?" Kate's voice is steel, "Tell me," she demands.

"I watched him bleed." Hunt replies. "I made sure he knew who I was, and then I made him pay. And that's all you need to know, Kate. Trust me on this one. Know that he didn't go easy and then let it go. That's my burden to bear."

Kate nods; the look on Castle's father's face is enough to tell it was not a peaceful end and she can let that be enough for her.

"So what do you want to do now?" Hunt asks.

Kate raises a brow. "You're letting me decide all of a sudden?"

"You know my opinion on the matter. But right now, right this minute it's almost 2:00 a.m., Detective Beckett, and you should try and get some sleep. They'll find you a bed here if you want it, or else I know a small hotel close by. You can come right back again first thing tomorrow."

Kate knows in her heart this is the better option, and she's suddenly aware of how much she now needs to do.

"Lead the way," she says. "Some sleep would be great and at least tonight I can close my eyes knowing I can see him in the morning. And there are a lot of people I need to call first thing, after Martha and Alexis; I have to call someone I think can help him."

Hunt's gaze turns hopeful.

"You've got a plan then?" He asks.

Kate smiles a small smile. "The same Doctor who helped me with my own PTSD. Right now he's the only one I can imagine trusting to help Castle."

They get two rooms at the hotel and Kate practically crawls onto the mattress, she's out before she can even get herself undressed.

Hunt makes calls, runs a background check on one 'Dr. Carter Burke'. When it comes back practically glowing the aging spy finally allows himself to rest around five, heart a little lighter than before.

* * *

Despite the late night, the next morning Kate is up early. She showers, dresses in day-old clothes and with iPhone in hand she gets quickly to work. Thankfully, Dr. Burke agrees to treat Castle almost immediately. He even gives Kate the name and address of a facility in the city she could transfer him to if it's necessary, although he recommends getting Castle home if his mental state allows for it. Tells her that the more familiar the environment the more likely that muscle memory and habits will be quick to return. With that plan in place Beckett takes a deep breath and makes the important calls, Martha first, and then of course - Alexis.

There are a lot of tears involved, joyful ones and painful ones both. She tells them to stay in New York, that she's bringing him home, and then Kate messages the rest of the team. Finally she seeks out Hunt once more, eager to get started now, to get Castle back to the city.

By the time they reach 'Killingly Castle' though, the sense of optimism and the determined courage that she woke up have with almost entirely deserted her. In the daylight the facility feels much more daunting, the problems that she's facing are suddenly like a sheer rock face she's uncertain how to begin to climb.

"One foot in front of the other." Hunt says gently, as they stand more once outside her fiancé's door.

Puzzled, Kate looks up at him.

"Bottom line, we don't know what he's going to do, Kate – when he sees you. You could stand out here all day and second guess yourself in circles. So all we can do is take forward steps now, the two of you have to have a conversation and we'll see how Richard reacts."

"Have you spoken to him?" She asks, suddenly realizing that she doesn't know, didn't ask before now.

Hunt nods.

"He didn't recognize me. He looked wary, like he wasn't supposed to speak to anyone, and he asked me who I was."

"What did you tell him?"

Hunt shrugs. "His name, although that was the one thing he knew. That I was a friend. That I knew he was scared and confused and as dependent on the people who were mistreating him as he was desperately wanting to get away from them. I told him he could relax now, that he was safe, but I don't know if he believed me or not. He clammed up then, and I was afraid to push him."

Beckett looks thoughtful. "Come in with me then," she says decisively. "We can tell him together that he's leaving here, who he really is."

Hunt holds up a forestalling hand. "Is it wise for you to tell him that?" He asks.

Kate nods. "The one thing Dr. Burke instructed me is that whatever I say I must not lie to him. Everything I tell him has to be the truth, so that if he comes out of this state - if his memories suddenly return to him, then I stand a better chance of convincing him that I didn't do what Tyson has him believing I did."

Hunt looks thoughtful for a long moment, "Alright. Then let me go first and if he feels like listening you can tell him what we want to do."

"No time like the present I guess," she says nervously.

Castle's father sends her a hopeful smile, and opens the door.

* * *

He's up. Castle's sitting in a chair by the room's only window with a book on his lap, and the sight is for a moment so normal, so unexpected that it moves Kate to near tears. For a moment she imagines that he's going to look up, see her, smile and everything will just magically fall back into place. The last three months will be just a bad dream, they'll rearrange the wedding, everything will be as it was before . . . But then Castle really does look up, really does see her, and . . . there's nothing.

There's no recognition in his eyes at all. There's no sparkle, no charm, no fun – nothing of _him_. He sees her, but it's like he's looking right through her. They're his eyes, and yet they're not. His almost disinterested gaze moves away from her quickly in fact, over to his father, and then she does see a flash of something – recognition and curiosity. Yes there's definitely now curiosity in them.

"Hello, Richard." Hunt's greeting is warm and calming - confident. He strides over to his son's side, immediately offering his hand to him, and Kate watches transfixed as Castle slowly reaches up to take it, though he doesn't say anything.

"Do you remember me visiting you before?" Hunt asks him.

Castle tilts his head slightly.

"I've brought someone with me this time," Hunt continues, just as if Castle had properly acknowledged him. "Her name is Kate. She's a friend of yours, Richard and she's been searching for you for a very long time."

Castle turns puzzled eyes back on her then, and Kate swears she can see the wheels turning in his mind, and she knows that familiar questioning light in them.

"Hi, Rick," she says shyly.

Castle frowns.

"Richard," he corrects her, and although it breaks something in her a little - not to hear him respond with her name, the sound of his voice after all this time still makes her giddy. So afraid she's been for so long now that she'd never hear his voice again.

"Actually I mostly call you, Castle," she tells him. Shaking off the frozen stance she's been holding since they opened the door, Kate allows herself to move until she's right next to him. She drops down into a crouch beside his chair, looks at him as if he's still just the man that she adores and he hasn't been diminished in any way. "But it's okay if you don't remember that right now," she adds.

Her fiancé nods.

"Beyond the last few days I don't remember anything," he says adamantly. And it's in the words, in the very denial that she hears something of what he's been through. There's such bleakness, such a devout commitment to the idea of 'nothing' ringing loud and clear in his tone. Like he doesn't _want_ to remember, like the thought of it terrifies him. It's as if he already knows that with his memories comes an avalanche of pain. It forces Kate to think that he may be fighting _against_ remembering all the way.

Her heart lurches, it dies a little. Because everything that they are is contained inside those memories, everything that she needs him to feel. His great love for her hidden away in an effort to avoid being destroyed by the pain.

Inside Kate trembles, but outwardly she plasters as much of a genuine smile on her face as she can. One step at a time and right now she has to get him to trust her, to go along with the first part of her plan.

"I promise that's okay, Castle. I'll remember for both us - until it comes back to you. I can do that, and if you'll let me I'll be your guide now, I'll teach you about the things that are missing and show you who you are."

His familiar eyes rove over her features, studying her face earnestly and Kate lets him. She holds his gaze evenly, openly, lovingly. She hides from him nothing except the terrible fear and loss that she presently feels – or so she hopes.

"You're worried," he says quietly, after long moments of just looking at her. Damn man always could read her like a book.

She nods. "About you," she replies.

Castle shakes his head. "No, it's more than that. You look like you've lost something that you don't think you'll ever get back."

Kate gasps her eyes wide. "Why do you say that?"

Her partner shrugs. "Who am I to you?" He asks.

Kate glances at Hunt who merely nods encouragingly. Dr. Burke told her to tell him no lies, to be completely open with him, so taking a fortifying breath she answers, "The man I was going to marry." But it sounds wrong even to her own ears because there's no 'was' about this.

Reaching out, Kate takes his hand; she tangles their fingers together as Castle quietly continues to study her.

"You're the man I'm _going _to marry," she says. "Castle, you're the man that I love."

His lips turn up a little at that, and for a moment there's something of the partner she knows in his beloved face.

"Then why don't I remember you?" He asks uncertainly. "How could I forget someone _so_ beautiful whose eyes have seen so much pain? See right there - right now, this very moment even I can see I'm causing more pain for you. Can you tell me why, Kate? Why that's the case. Why am I in here? What is this place?"

Oh, how very like Castle to want so many answers all at once, and yet it gifts her with a spark of hope doesn't it, witnessing the familiar patterns of his personality that are still in place.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, Kate produces her shield. She places it in Castle's lap.

"You're a cop?" He sounds so surprised.

She nods, "I'm a Homicide Detective."

He picks up her shield and runs his fingers thoughtfully over it, looking back at her he asks, "What do I do?"

Kate smiles, "You're a writer, a best-selling writer actually. But you're my partner as well, a civilian consultant with the NYPD."

His eyes light up at that, and he looks like a kid for just a tiny moment, before the light in his eyes dims and he looks warily away.

"What's wrong?" She prods gently.

"I'm not sure," he says, sounding lost and a trace hopeless. "I want to believe you, but for some reason everything you say just feels untrue – I can't explain why. All I know is I want to leave here, I don't like this place but I don't know where to go or what to do."

"Come with me," she tells him. "Castle, let me take you home - back to New York. There is so much to explain to you and so many people waiting to help you. You have a home, a life, a family - a mother and a daughter who are desperate to see you."

Castle looks at her and Kate hates what she sees in his vivid eyes. There's such conflict there, such a struggle raging within him about what and who to trust. She's never seen such a lack of faith in his face, the man she knows always sees a bright side.

"I can prove it all to you," she says desperately, this time reaching into her jacket for her phone. She opens Google on the iPhone's browser, shaking fingers typing in his name. When the search returns results she turns the phone around to face him. "Here," she says pointing to the series of images, the link to Wikipedia that's displayed, "Look."

Her fiancé doesn't take the phone from her but he does look down at the screen, studies the list of results. After what feels like an eternity his attention turns back to her, and then he looks over her head towards the waiting figure of his father.

"Is what she says really true?" He asks. "What I see on the screen, this man does look like me."

Hunt smiles. "That's because it is you, Son."

Looking back at Kate he nods once, quickly, his face doesn't look any more trusting, or any happier until he says, "Okay. I'll come with you." And then something seems to settle him – just making a decision, taking a leap maybe.

Whatever it is she doesn't care. He's coming home, he's coming back with her and that's a victory right there.


	9. No I never will, never ever would

_Long steady road_  
_Oh travel, be kind_  
_I'm searching for some peace of mind_  
_The home that you know_  
_A home left behind_  
_Oh trouble, don't trouble this time._

_And baby don't look back,_  
_Odds don't stack_  
_They just crumble down around you._  
_Oh, you gotta go away if you wanna come back_  
_I won't crack I can't make a sound without you._

_And even if it sounds crazy darling I won't let you go_  
_And even if it don't stop raining darling I won't let you go_  
_And even if the world's burning darling I won't let you go_  
_Even if it sounds crazy darling I won't let you go._

* * *

'**I Won't Let You Go.' Hedley**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: **No I never will, never ever would.

* * *

Getting Castle discharged and out of the psyche facility is almost too easy - Tyson and Nieman had it set-up to look as if he was 'self-admitted' under his birth name. Kate fumes when Hunt reveals this, because she knows how they must have gotten off on it, but Hunt points out that it helps them now as they're free to simply take him away with them. She lets it go, focuses instead on the good news that Castle's been free of whatever drugs they kept pumping him full of for just long enough that there are no concerns about having to detox him.

Watching him move so stiffly, so carefully is agonizing to her though. Shows up how clearly his body is recovering from some real trauma, though nothing is plainly visible to her with him dressed as he is in his father's borrowed clothes.

There's a surge of want inside her, a desire to map him. Strip him bare so she can worship every mark, kiss every bruise better - just soothe his body and his soul with her caresses. God, she just wishes her love could somehow simply remake him. She wants to travel in time and spare him from all of this – he doesn't deserve to be in pain, he's the best person she's ever known. And it's hard, hard now that she's near to him to keep her hands to herself. They've been lovers for over two years, engaged for a year of that – she's missed him. There aren't words for how much she's longed for him, his touch, his kiss, the indescribable feeling of him buried deep inside her. He's beside her, but she can't just reach out and touch him, can't just launch herself at his mouth and slake this terrible ache.

"You ready?" She asks him softly as she holds open the door to what's been his prison, her eyes misting up as he looks so scared and unsure as he passes through it. In the corridor outside however Castle nods, then waits for her to go ahead of him, and she buries both of her hands in her pockets to prevent herself from pushing him to hold one of them.

He's uncharacteristically silent the entire journey back to the city. She turns to look at him every few minutes as Hunt is driving, scanning his features for signs that he recollects anything that they're passing. But all he does is just sit still and silent, staring intently at everything.

She doesn't know what to make of it.

Castle's father parks the rented Hyundai in the visitors spot in the parkade beneath their building; Castle climbs out the car the moment it's in park, wandering over a couple of stalls to stand staring at his cherry-red convertible Ferrari. Migrating to his side, Kate finds herself breathing deeply; he's studying the car zealously, she'd say almost greedily, and she wonders if he recognizes it.

"This is a beautiful car," he tells her and she can't help how she just smiles widely, it's such a guy reaction from him, even if it wasn't the one she'd been hoping for.

"Well it is," he says defensively, misreading the reason for the smile on her face.

"Oh I know," she agrees, laying her hand on his arm gently as she leans closer. "I'm just smiling because it's yours."

His eyes get like saucers then, it's almost comical - they're so blue and so wide and he looks back at the car with even greater appreciation.

"When I told you that you were a best-selling writer, Rick - it wasn't an exaggeration. You're extremely good and very successful, and you're just as great when you're working as a partner to me."

The writer looks from the car to her and then back again, then he shakes his head slightly, something clearly bothering him. "If my life is so successful," he murmurs, "Then why don't I remember any of it?"

Her stomach turns over. God, the amount of information he's going to have to absorb. All the details he's going to have coming at him. She knows it's going to be overwhelming. How does she explain that he's detached himself from his own identity, from everything he loves - because a psychotic serial killer was trying to drive him insane? He hasn't once mentioned his abductors, or anything that tells her he remembers anything of being in their clutches, or drugged, or beaten – though he's obviously still in some physical pain. He's so calm right now, wary and distrustful but calm, does she start here, in this moment, breaking it all to him or does she just give him some space to recuperate?

Fuck, this is a minefield isn't it?

"You will, Castle," she tells him simply in the end, hoping she sounds at least a little convincing. "When you're ready," she adds, figuring that until she's spoken at length to Burke and let the doctor assess him, then its better if she just eases Rick into everything.

"Come on," she says, taking a risk and snagging his large hand in hers, "I know this is a lot to take in, but your mother and your daughter are upstairs waiting."

She goes to tug him forward but he's a big man and he's doesn't make a move to follow despite her efforts. She watches as he drops his eyes to the concrete floor of the parkade, shuffles his feet back and forth nervously.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

Her fiancé blows out a frustrated breath. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this," he says honestly. "I don't want to be cruel, but a mother and a daughter are going to have expectations and I've been thinking . . . I'm not ready for them."

He's not wrong, but she doesn't know what else to do except plead with him. Martha and Alexis have been through absolute hell the last three months; they're dying to see him. The man she knows always put his family ahead of all other considerations, its second nature to him, so Kate takes a breath and decides here she has to push, to remind him.

"I know this is hard, Castle. But I have to ask you to think about _them_. Just for a second, imagine losing your father, your child; picture the joy you would feel upon being reunited. Please, don't take that away from them, they've been through a terrible ordeal too. You don't recall, but these two women, Castle your relationship with them both is amazing. Your mother adores you, you're all she has and she's been a rock, she's been so strong, so hopeful, she's held me together with you missing. And your daughter, I've never known a more devoted parent than you. You raised her on your own, no nannies, she's your only child and Castle – she's the center of your universe, and you are hers."

Kate trails off and stares at him, wondering if she's said too much, hoping some of it might have gotten through. He needs to go upstairs and face this, and she can't help but think it can only do him good.

He watches her impassioned face for a long moment, and then to her great relief he actually smiles. It almost takes her breath away; it's like seeing the sun again after months in darkness. "I'm sorry," he says, "You're right, I'm being selfish. And it says a lot about your relationship with my family that you're so concerned for both of them. I can see how hard you're tying to make this easier, but this is killing you isn't? To be standing next to the man you say you love and he's looking at you like you're a stranger."

He's reading her like a book again.

Her eyes get glassy in response, and Castle shifts his hand inside hers, twisting his about until her hand is instead cradled within his. "How long has it been, Kate? How long have I been gone?" His tone is warm now, and so full of his usual empathy. No fear colors it, no uncertainty, the moisture gathering in her eyes spills, slides down her wan cheeks and he tightens his grasp on her. It grounds her enough that she's able to answer him.

"Three months," she chokes out.

"And how did it happen?"

Oh he would have to ask that wouldn't he? Barely managing to hold his gaze, Kate loses completely any effort to keep her distress from twisting her features.

"You were abducted," she whispers, adding "But I didn't mean to share that with you so quickly. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Castle. There's so very much to tell you, but I don't know how I keep it all from being a burden."

He doesn't answer, his gaze seems to turn inwards instead and then something flashes across his handsome face that looks a whole lot like anger.

"Wait," he says suddenly, "Abducted - that means someone did this to me – to us. My family."

She nods, and Castle looks back at the Ferrari. Once again Kate can see the gears in his intelligent writer's mind whirring frantically.

"Did they ask for money?" He asks, "I mean if I really own a car like that, and I live in a building like this one, then I'd have to have the means to do it."

"You do," she tells him, practically willing him to leave the conversation right there, but knowing his innate curiosity suspecting he won't be able to.

"So it was money then?"

'_You cannot lie to him.'_

Dr. Burke's paramount instruction to her. She has no choice, not with what will be coming for them to deal with, but to stick to it.

"No," she replies heavily. "The man and woman who took you, Castle – do you remember anything of them?"

The writer goes to shake his head but then stops himself in the middle of it, his eyes scrunch closed as if he's trying to ward something off and when he opens his eyes and answers her – he's lying, she's almost certain of it.

"I don't remember any of it."

Beckett bites her lip, but chooses to let it go, nodding thoughtfully instead.

"So if it wasn't for money – then what?" He asks, still pushing it.

'_Kate, you must not lie to him.'_

So she spills it.

"Revenge," she admits to him quietly. "Because of your work with me and a case that we worked together, you made a terrible enemy."

Unable to look at him then, Kate drops his gaze like it's burning her and stares anywhere but at him. She's never articulated it like that before – out loud, but it strikes now how true those words are, and she can't help but think that if he'd never met her, how much misery he might have been saved from. How much better off he might be. He's done nothing since she's known him but bring light and joy and happiness back into her world, without him she'd never have solved her mother's case and gotten justice, but she would trade that away in this moment if it meant she could've protected him from this.

She knows that her mother would understand it.

Besides, what has she really given him? Herself and her love – unconditionally, but also too much baggage and so much danger she's heaped upon him. So many bad, bad memories. In a lot of ways she has not been good for him.

"_Kate, I love you."_

They were the last words he spoke to her before this nightmare began and they come back to her now, shimmering and real. Truth. She lets go of her bad thoughts and makes herself focus on them, forcing her head up, she tries to find a smile.

He's watching her silently.

"Look," she says, "I'll make you a promise, Rick. You can ask me any question you like and I'll answer it. I'll be truthful, brutally honest if I have to be, but right now, right now please just follow me this little bit further and let me reunite you with your family. Once they've seen you, once they can know for sure that you're safe, I'm certain they'll give you some space to get some equilibrium. Please."

Castle nods. "So they know then. I mean, you've told them about my memory."

"They know. I'm not sure they completely understand and your family is very affectionate, they're going to want to be . . . I mean I've told them that you're still recovering from injuries, so they know to be careful but . . ." She stops.

He finishes for her, "I should let them hug me you mean."

"Yeah," she says. "Sorry."

He shakes his head. "No. No, it's fine. Really, it's fine. I mean physical affection from women who love me - what kinda man doesn't love that?" He's smiling again and it's so genuine and so self-deprecating and so very much him. It gives her hope.

"So you'll do it, come and meet them with me?" She asks.

"I will."

He follows her to the elevators and doesn't let go of her hand. Hunt trails on their heels like a watchdog, and Kate supposes that's what he must feel like, deadly, on guard, silently in command.

The ride up to the loft feels endless, her stomach twisting in nervous knots of anticipation. This is not how she ever pictured bringing him home, but she's still bringing him home. It's not enough, but it's at least a beginning.

Reaching the familiar door, Kate's about to dig for her keys when it's flung wide and a red-haired hurricane appears.

"Dad!"

The word is choked out, an explosion of sound and emotion that echoes off the corridor walls. Then Alexis moves quickly - before Kate can remind her that her father is injured, that he doesn't remember, before she can say anything. The young woman lands against him hard, causing him to stagger and Kate gasps at the sharp stab of pain that crosses his tense face.

But then his arms go around her and he cradles his sobbing daughter, lowers his face down into her hair. He holds her tightly - though Kate knows how it must be hurting him, and when he raises his eyes and holds Kate's gaze he mouths at her the words, 'It's okay.'

And she's reminded once again of why she wants so badly to marry this man. He doesn't know who he is. Doesn't remember this young girl that he's comforting, but still gives of himself instinctively even when it costs him – and that's so the Richard Castle she knows right there.


	10. For what it's worth, I tried

_Tell me that there's more,  
Tell me you're worth fighting for,  
You are.  
Everything I know,  
Everything that mattered,  
You can make this easy,  
Believe me._

_At the perfect moment,  
Just say that everything will be alright_

_Make me believe,  
Lie if you have to,  
Stay here forever,  
Tell me this won't end.  
Make Me believe,  
Know that I need you,  
Don't leave me alone here.  
This doesn't have to end,  
This doesn't have to end_

* * *

'**Make Me Believe' Tupelo Honey**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: **For what it's worth, I tried.

* * *

It's amazing the things that you don't think through.

Like bringing him home, just having his physical presence in the loft again, the bulk and size of him, the comfort of knowing they're breathing the same air. That she can reach out and find him, expect to see him brewing coffee in the kitchen, or raiding the fridge at midnight because he's craving something sweet. All this, this day-to-day minutia she's needed, craved like a heroin fix and now he's here and . . .

He's the same man in all the intrinsic parts of his personality. The desire to please, the way he gives even when he's so far from himself. The familiar patterns of his speech, the way he drags his fingers just so through his hair. The way he sits facing the person he's talking to, deliberately moves to align himself as he's trying to explain everything that is missing, all that he doesn't know. This man who's been through hell - hell they can't really comprehend – none of them, because until his memories return they're just guessing at what's truly been done to him. He's exhausted himself today trying to be what two strangers to him have needed - and she's just let him.

And it's not - right. Because he's not . . . He's not the same. He's still her Castle and at the same time . . . He isn't.

* * *

He stands on the roof-deck of what is apparently his home - his opulent, spacious, must-have-cost-him-millions home, and he stares out into the dark and the city that surrounds him.

The city feels . . . familiar. The bustle, the energy of it is soothing when so much else that really should be is not.

Castle sighs heavily, he's alone and it's late and he knows everyone else inside is sleeping. But while he's exhausted, his mind is just restless and the open space up here, the fresh air calls out to him.

It feels so good to be in the open air again. Feels like forever and apparently it has been a while since he's been free to simply go where he pleases.

Castle leans on the parapet wall and looks over, down into the street below and around him at the lights and he wishes he could at least remember the people who are a part of his life if nothing else, but his memory is just . . . It's like a black hole to him. When he tries to call to his mind their faces, his history with them, anything beyond waking up in that horrible place little more than a week ago there's just - a blankness within. An area of his mind that feels locked, impenetrable, and pushing to enter into it leaves him with a feeling of great unease, twisting around his heart and leaving him breathless if tries too hard to go beyond it .

It scares him. This is his own mind and it scares him – and he's stuck in something like a limbo. A stranger even to himself.

It's little, what Hunt and Kate have shared with him this far, merely the barest details of his abduction - the why it happened and how long ago. And the way his body feels – abused, he understands enough to guess that he's lived through something truly awful. Something that drove him they say to do this to himself. To wipe his own mind clean of the horror, hiding away his feelings and his memories of everything and everybody in the process.

He knows intellectually what's happened to him, what a 'fugue' state is. And he swears he can feel the block inside his mind - dark and swirling like a vortex that tells him that what they say has happened to him is true. And yet despite that it's all just so damn hard to really believe.

Because how could someone hate him _so_ much that they'd physically take him away from all that he loves, and then proceed to put him through this?

What does that say about not just them - but him?

He has so many questions and he doesn't really have a clue where to begin.

Still, he gained his freedom today, and a small part of his story has been filled in.

How he's got this beautiful, grown up, accomplished daughter who so clearly adores him. 'Alexis'. He loves her name, and how she looks at him with so much love, how she spilled it out how terribly she missed his face, his voice, his hugs, his advice. He's spent just a few hours in her company and it's been like magic to him simply being around her. He doesn't recall anything about raising her – yet he does know in both his heart and his soul that she is unquestionably his.

Then there is his mother - Castle smiles into the night just thinking about her. How flamboyant and how theatrical and how vibrantly alive a woman she is. Her hand wrapped around his fingers is something that feels completely right to him. Her smile when she looked deep into his eyes - he doesn't know her, and yet he recognizes it. The scent of her perfume is comforting – a balm, like he's known the smell of it forever and her embrace when she held him was simply the most natural place for him to be.

Next is 'Hunt' the 'friend' who found him. About the first face he remembers apart from some staff at the place he's been. Except Hunt is his really his father, well biologically. Works for the CIA, highly secretive, has no real relationship with him. Still, it was this man who found him, brought him home, dealt with his abductors. Castle knows this says far more than words about the man's feelings for him.

And then of course there's Kate. His. So very beautiful, and so deeply sad, her stunning eyes just so damn mesmerizing. Her smile is like light to him, a beacon in the darkness. He adores her and he just innately understands this. He feels it, knows that it consumes him - this love. That it's a passion he's never known before her - burning at the core of his being and he's completely terrified of it.

Something is _so_ wrong that he feels all this for her but can't even remember the day they actually met. He knows it wasn't yesterday because he already knows every curve, every expression, and every plane of her lovely face. If he closes his eyes then he sees her body, how it curves and molds to his. He knows without touching more than her hand how strong and yet how fragile she always feels beneath his fingertips. She is fantasy made flesh, dream made reality; he knows that he knows her intimately - that he loves her beyond all reason and yet their history is nothing but darkness to him.

And darkness, anxiety, fears, they color everything when he thinks about her, when he scrapes and pushes and scours his mind for the places where she should exist.

He feels both pulled toward, bound to her, and yet like there is a distance, a chasm between them that he's both created and most desperately needs.

And he's so completely and utterly confused by it.

He's learned that he's known her for almost six years and that they've been together as a couple for two. He's also noticed photographs of the pair of them scattered around the loft, happy looking, smiling, so clearly and blatantly in-love. He wants to be that man again, for her, for himself, for his mother and Alexis and yet this darkness, this blank area in his mind seems to whisper mockingly of nothing but 'impossibilities'.

Castle wraps his palms around the rough-hewn stone edge of the parapet, looking up now, at the night-sky – little more than a wash of light pollution really above him, and he wishes there wasn't so much discord within him. Her voice, when it comes is soft and hesitant and it startles him.

* * *

"Castle?"

He doesn't turn from the wall, just looks over his shoulder to find her about ten feet away behind him.

"Hey," he replies quietly, his heart rate climbing as he tries to ignore the endless length of her long legs clad as they are in sleep shorts, the wave of carnal desire is sudden and sweeps through him. He pushes it back down fiercely. Immediately. Squashes it almost, somehow that feels necessary even as he supposes its silly. She's his fiancée after all and so he's certainly allowed to feel it.

Kate steps closer, comes to lean on the ledge of the wall beside him. Looking up into his face he can feel the concern radiating from her, her dark eyes are deep pools of it.

"I guess you can't sleep," she states quietly, before she starts apologizing. "I'm sorry. Today was too much wasn't it, I should have respected your feelings better when you said you weren't really ready for it."

She looks so worried and guilty and he knows he hates to see it, hates to be the cause of it.

"I'm fine," he tries to reassure her. "My mind is just trying to absorb – that's all. Today was amazing actually, in a lot of ways. Really - only a little overwhelming." He smiles deliberately, hiding his inner confusion from her. There's nothing to be done but try and work through it anyway - to learn all the answers to every question that awaits.

She smiles shyly in response, "You were amazing," she whispers to him. "Really, Rick. It was you, seeing you with Alexis and your mother, watching how open and giving you were with them. I wish I could explain to you how much of who you truly are I saw today. Even without any memories."

He nods in reply, looks past her out into the city thoughtfully. "Am I a good man?" He murmurs - a question to her obviously but it's spoken like he's really wondering.

"The best," she answers passionately, her small hand reaching for him and cupping his elbow, tugging on it until he looks at her. In his face she must read clearly at least one of his thousands of questions, because before he can say anything else - she's answering it.

"The people who abducted you, Castle, their names were Jerry Tyson and Kelly Neiman. He was a dangerous and psychotic serial killer; she was a gifted plastic surgeon. The things they've done, the people they've killed, it's a miracle that you survived this. But there is nothing you've ever done to warrant their behavior - nothing but try and stop them."

He nods, face still thoughtful and cast in shadows. He hears her belief in what she's saying, but it settles nothing inside of him.

"So what happens now?" He asks.

"We pick up the pieces of our life together," she answers. "Castle, there's someone I want you to see. Someone I'm certain can help you - help us. He's a doctor."

Castle raises an eyebrow but blanks his face, his expression becomes unreadable although she knows he must be expecting her to say this.

"You mean a psychiatrist," he says.

Kate nods.

"Mine," she tells him evenly, her tired face neutral and her eyes careful.

He finds he's surprised to think of her talking to a shrink, until he thinks further about how long he's been missing. How much she must have gone through for all those months of searching and not knowing what had become of him.

"You've been seeing someone?" He clarifies.

"For a long while on and off," she confirms. "Originally department mandated after my shooting, but then dealing with PTSD and then more recently for support after your abduction."

She says it quietly and so matter-of-factly but all he really hears is the word 'shooting', before it hits him. His vision tunnels and then they flash behind his eyes. Images quick and cascading. Feelings rise up inside him, despair, agony, hopelessness, loss. He feels blood slick and hot, sticky on his fingers, sees bright green grass, cloudless blue skies, Kate's eyes closing in slow-motion right in front of him.

He stumbles away from her blinking. His legs have gone rubbery, he's so disorientated. He has no idea in the moment if he's standing still or if he's still moving. No idea what's happening.

"Rick?" She calls his name and it's like he's hearing it underwater. It's garbled, muffled and feels like it's far away. It barely reaches him.

"Rick. Castle . . . Answer me."

Is she speaking to him?

"CASTLE." Her voice is so distant but like a shout now. A loud and desperate plea and his lungs heave for air as if he's drowning. He barely registers her body slamming into him, until her arms wind tightly, desperately around him.

"Castle . . . Castle. Please."

Fingers against his face, her breath against his neck, warm humid puffs of air. Somehow he hears her heart pounding. Hard and rhythmic, strong and fierce and it's the sound of it, constant, fast, real and _hers_ that finally grounds him. His vision clears and the flashing images dissipate. Swallowing, Castle realizes his mouth is bone-dry and then he understands just how hard he has been gasping.

His hands find her waist, they anchor her to him, and he just holds on until he feels his breathing beginning to even. Once he feels like he's back in control of his body, he looks down at the top of her head - a sight that doesn't seem foreign to him. He pushes her back then. Eases her slightly away from him, just enough so that he can see into her face and there he sees horrified eyes looking back.

"What just happened?" Is her agonized question, "Rick, what was that?"

He stares at her open-mouthed, there are pictures in his mind that are new to him.

"I think," he mumbles, "I think I just remembered something."


	11. We can survive this if we try

_Come take my hand now_  
_Know there is no doubt_  
_I'm here for you_  
_I'll be the truth_

_Someone in your life_  
_Just look in my eyes_  
_Know that you're home_  
_You're not alone_

_All I know is I can't breathe_  
_Without you next to me_

_Don't give up, don't let go_  
_Come on get closer_  
_Give all we have inside_  
_Don't look back_  
_Come on get closer_

* * *

'**Closer' Westlife**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: **Don't walk away; we can survive this if we try.

* * *

His eyes are wide with fear and confusion as he looks down at her, and she can see the weight of memory in them. When he tells her he thinks he just remembered something, she knows that he does. Knows it wasn't a happy memory that hit him either.

He's shaking. She can feel the tremors vibrating throughout his torso from where his hands are still gripping tightly to her waist and she acts on instinct – pushes her body into his and rests her head on his chest.

"Tell me," she says simply.

"Sunshine," he begins, "It's so bright, vivid blue sky, bright green grass, and you, Kate. You're dressed in uniform. Flashes of white stones around us, there's a flag, an American flag and . . . you're falling." He shudders and his fingers start digging into her flesh.

She closes her eyes and bites her lip, knows without him saying anything further what he's seeing in his mind. What memory from their past he's just been gifted with, and inside Kate curses, can't help but remember him telling her – '_When a life-changing event occurs – people remember.'_ Figures, she thinks that this then would be one of the first memories to reappear.

"What else?" She asks.

Above her she feels him shake his head.

"Blood," he replies, shuddering again, "Hot and slippery, so much of it. I swear I can almost smell it now, Kate – the iron tang of it in the back of my throat. I saw your eyes sliding closed and remember the fear, I was afraid. I was so incredibly afraid they'd never open again."

_Oh, Castle._

"You were shot." He pushes her back suddenly as he says it, staring down at her, and then his movements are frantic. His eyes move immediately from her face down to her chest. His fingers leave her waist and start tugging at the neckline of the sleeveless tank top she wore to bed. The slender spaghetti strap on her left shoulder falls and the top slithers down her chest enough that he finds what he's obviously searching for - her bullet scar. He sucks in a ragged breath as he gazes down at it, and in response Kate tugs the fingers of his right hand to press against the puckered mark.

"Castle, look at me," she instructs him, he does but his eyes are foggy with emotion, remembering this has really shocked his system. But though the memory is not a pleasant one, it's a memory and that's significant.

"I'm fine," she whispers, smiling as reassuringly and as lovingly as she can. "It was a long time ago and scars are all that's left." She moves his fingers against the shiny silver mark again, and then pushes them lower until his palm is right above her heart. "See . . . I'm just fine. And you remembered something, Castle. Your first night home and something has come back to you. It's wonderful."

The fogginess in his eyes clears and Kate swears she can see him mentally shake himself. The corners of his mouth turn up a little, but then he seems to see how intimately they're touching and he pulls back almost self consciously, dropping his hands away from her, shuttering his emotions like they burn.

"You're fine." He murmurs, and it's purely to himself she notes, "Just fine." He turns away then; puts distance between them and a shiver runs down Kate's spine because of it. She doesn't understand why he's stepping away.

"Castle?"

"You should go back to bed," he says evenly over his shoulder, leaning back on the wall and resuming the staring out into the city night that he was engaged in when she came up to find him.

"You should come with me," she nudges gently, hoping that he'll agree.

"I don't think I can sleep."

His voice belies that though – it's so weary, a point she's about to make when he continues,

"Not with these new images in my head anyway. But really, Kate – please don't let me keep you up. I'll just go and crash on the couch whenever I feel I might be able to."

Kate sighs, pushing him to agree to share their bed with her already required a bit of a battle earlier in the evening. Though he's been told they're engaged and she knows he believes her, clearly the idea of sleeping beside her was too much intimacy too soon. Then he didn't want to kick her out of the bed and she wouldn't let him sleep on the couch, and in the end she basically resorted to begging and she pleaded. Thinking on it again now it's obvious that maybe that was unfair of her – putting so much pressure on him his first night home. Still, its agony – the thought of him being here and her not sleeping next to him. Mornings have been the hardest on her these last three months, opening her eyes as slumber slipped away and always the empty expanse where he should be lying confronting her.

She's so sick, so very sick of it. But he's obviously uneasy and if he needs some space from people after what he's endured then she'll just have to live with it.

"Okay," she says sadly. "But please wake me if you need anything and . . ."

She stops mid-sentence and Castle turns around.

"And . . .What?" He asks.

_Please, please come to bed when you can_. _Hold me._

The words are on the tip of her tongue, she bites them back ruthlessly.

"Nothing," she says after a pause, "It doesn't matter. Just promise to try and get some rest, Rick. I'll go ahead and call Dr. Burke in the morning. I mean - if that's okay with you?"

For a second she sees conflict on his face, but then he shrugs almost nonchalantly. "Sure," he agrees, "Good night then."

He turns away once more and Kate finds she can't quite go like this. Stepping up beside him she stretches up on her toes, planting a soft kiss on his warm cheek then lingering. The familiar rasp of his evening stubble against her lips is somehow beautiful; the smell of him is anchoring.

"Good night, Babe," she whispers, and with that she's able to leave him.

Castle stays up on the roof terrace most of the night, he never makes it back to the bed and she finds him crashed out on the sofa come the morning. It hurts but she pushes past it, at least he's sleeping.

* * *

"You have more color in your face, Kate, more life. It looks much better on you."

Dr. Carter Burke smiles at her as he opens the door to his expansive office and makes to usher her inside. Beckett musters up a wan smile in return for him, taking a single step inside before she pauses, shoots a look back over to where Castle is sitting patiently in the waiting area. He isn't watching her so she can't catch his eye; instead he's studying the carpet and it strikes her how out of place he seems to be.

Hardening her resolve she pushes past her desire to remain glued to his side, and instead forces herself to accompany her shrink into his office, trying not to flinch when he shuts the door behind them. Sealing Castle on the other side of it.

"He's safe here." Burke reassures her, before he nods towards her usual chair, waiting for her to sit before he joins her.

"So . . . ." He says in opening, dark eyes unreadable. "Before we discuss your partner, Kate, tell me – how are you doing?"

Kate breathes deep and takes a moment to try and analyze her current emotions; letting herself focus on them one by one, just as he's taught her.

"I'm okay," she begins lamely. "Actually I feel like a pendulum in all honestly. Wildly swinging back and forth, one minute I'm happy, relieved, optimistic and the next I'm sad, scared, queasy, uneasy and lonely - because he's here but he isn't and this is just . . . it's like an impossible place to be."

Burke tilts his head in acknowledgement. "Good," he says, surprising her. "Kate, that's really exactly where you should be."

She frowns and looks confused but he continues, "Your wedding was ruined. Your fiancé was abducted. After three months you recover him but he doesn't remember you. That is something that _should_ feel impossible to wrap your emotions around. This is the most important relationship in your life and it must feel right now like there's a wall between the two of you."

Kate nods, emotions swirling vividly in her eyes, fear and loss dominating the mix.

"And I hate knowing some of what they did to him but not all of it," she confesses. "I hate knowing that I've got to be the one to share with him what we think caused his mind to want to flee. I hate knowing exactly how strong he is and because of that knowing how badly they must have treated him before it came down to this. Castle understood Jerry Tyson better than anyone; it's why Tyson hated him so much. And it feels like Tyson is winning right now, because dead or not, every moment Castle isn't himself that's exactly what's happening."

"You can't think like that." Burke says calmly. "The moment you believe Tyson wins is the moment that you let him. Castle's current state of mind is nothing more than a method of protection. Try to think of it less like his mind is running away and more like it's been overloaded and therefore needs to reset."

Kate blows out a frustrated breath.

"But he might never recover everything," she states flatly.

Burke raises an eyebrow. "You don't know that, in actual fact that's very unlikely, Kate. This kind of dissociative amnesia that results from a psychological cause - stress, trauma, it's rare in the long-term for an individual to not recover their memories precisely _because_ it's a defense mechanism. He hasn't suffered an actual brain injury and therefore we can and in fact should be very optimistic."

She sighs.

"You're telling me he'll remember when he's ready to."

Burke shrugs. "That's a little simplistic but essentially correct. It's why I warned you about being very truthful with him. Not just so that when he does remember it matches with what he's already learned from you, but so that even now he really has to face things. And he's come with you today, so he's already open to seeing someone and that clearly demonstrates how strong he really is."

At this she smiles.

"It's just . . . I hate it. I hate seeing him struggling. I want to be truthful with him but I also don't want to makes this harder for him to get past. I don't know what to tell him right now, and what to hold back a bit. I mean do I just come right out and tell him about the duplicate me, about the video? I can't get the images out of my own head and I only watched a few minutes of it. I **know** that's it not me but I get exactly why he believed it. Why he'd buy that I betrayed him."

Her voice breaks on the last word because it's so hard to even _say_ it. She never would. She never, ever, ever, would do that to him. She loves him with every single atom of her existence. She loves him more than anything.

"Fuck . . . I hate this," she mumbles - mostly to herself and almost entirely under her breath.

"I know you do." Burke answers just the same.

Kate holds his gaze as steadily as she can. "So really, how much do I tell him? Right now I mean?"

Burke takes a moment and looks thoughtful.

"Has he shown any signs of recognition – even none verbal ones?" He asks, "To anything?"

She nods.

"Yes. Last night when I asked him about coming to see someone I mentioned that it would be someone I was used to seeing myself. I thought that might it easier, make him more comfortable with you even before you met. Somewhere in my explanation I mentioned my shooting and Rick had a very visceral reaction to it - physical even. He said it was like images flashing through his mind about what happened that day."

"Memory cascade." Burke replies, "Interesting. That's quick and very encouraging. But if memory recovery is being triggered already then, Kate - you really should explain everything in detail to him immediately. I know that you'd probably prefer to let him have some time to just get used to being back with his family, but I can't recommend it."

She'd already guessed that this is what Burke would tell her, but the confirmation helps anyway.

"And if he asks to see photos or the details of his missing person's file? What then?"

Burke leans forward in his chair and pats her knee. "After I've spoken with him, I'd recommend that you take him with you to the precinct, Kate. Show him around, let his friends introduce themselves and then show him as much of it as he's willing to see right now."

Kate swallows, "And the video – what of that?"

"Tell him about it but do not show it to him. Not yet, anyway. But the rest, Kate – share all of it with him."

Kate looks nervous. "You don't think it'll overwhelm him?"

The psychiatrist shakes his head, dark eyes calm, serious, confident.

"Everything I've ever learned from you about your partner tells me he has a very curious and analytical mind. He naturally sees patterns and understands motivations, it's what makes him an outstanding author and of such value in his work with you. His mind always instinctively asks questions. So give his mind something to work with, Kate. Give him answers before he knows he needs them."


	12. How much can you take?

_Honesty_  
_Is what you need_  
_It sets you free_  
_Like someone to save you_  
_Let it go_  
_But hurry now_  
_There's undertow_  
_And I don't want to lose you now_

_All right_  
_Sit down and spill your heart_  
_Lets start from the very start_  
_Cause I can see by your eyes_  
_You're wasted_  
_Your energy comes and goes_  
_You taking your time, you know_  
_Nothing can change what happened, you know_

* * *

'**Someone To Save You' One Republic**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: **How much can you take?

* * *

He likes Kate's shrink. Well – his too now, Castle supposes.

Turns out Dr. Carter Burke is well suited to his profession, calm, encouraging, open and just comfortable to be around in that way that's a total necessity if one needs to bear one's soul and have faith that any advice given is worth listening to.

He's glad he's spoken with the man and as Kate leads him into the Twelfth New York Police Precinct – their second home apparently – the writer feels glad to know there's that outlet for him. That there's someone available to talk to who isn't family, friend or loved one, but who's in his corner regardless, someone impartial who doesn't carry expectations of him.

That knowledge it just . . . helps.

He feels calmer for it, more prepared now somehow. Everything else in his world is so damn uncertain, so damn unknown, so for him to feel like he's gained ground, regained control – is huge. Because what little he remembered last night really shook him.

The images were vivid, but it was the accompanying emotions that truly messed with his head. He remembers being devastated, coming so close to losing her, and how he simply couldn't bear it.

It's really unnerving to know that you love someone so much, to feel it, know the power of it, but not understand why because you don't know when it happened, or how it happened. He needs their history. He wants to know. Because he wants to touch her, hold her. He wants to make love to her. She's so damn beautiful and so sad and he sees it in her eyes, how much she longs for him – the man he was. He sees it burning within her, how badly she wants him.

He could have kissed her last night, and even battered and bruised as he is, he could have found the strength to take her to bed with him – but he doesn't want that to happen when he can't recall how it is. They've been lovers for years; he knows that this is fact - so he doesn't want her to be new to him. When he kisses her, tastes her, slides inside her again, it has to be because he's reclaiming what he remembers is his. Because he's taking his life back, staking his claim on it again. Because when he says his name, when he says he's 'Richard Castle', he knows exactly who that really is.

Right now he doesn't. And part of him is scared to find out. Yet it feels right after talking with Dr. Burke, it feels okay that he starts to work on it.

They emerge on the 4th floor - Homicide. Castle looks around and smiles instantly, now this place – wow, it feels really comfortable to him. It's as if . . . as if he's very accustomed to being here, more so than the loft even, strange. He turns to find Kate eyeing him carefully, and he grins even wider, his expression warm and unguarded.

"Rick?"

"I know I know this place," he tells her. "I can't recall anything specific, but I do know I've been here before. Yeah, this is all . . . very déjà-vu-y." He sounds pleased.

Her answering smile is huge. It lights her up and the breath literally catches in the back of his throat - a rush of pure love rising quick and molten within him. Seeing her look so damn happy, oh he wants that, no he _needs_ that for her. It delights him. The way her slender shoulders straighten, the way some small amount of tension leaves her lithe frame. He's so glad to see it.

He might be holding himself back a bit from her – and for good reasons, but at the same time it pains him how clearly she's struggling with the circumstances of his return home, and the last thing he wants is to cause her pain, or make this harder than it already is. He determines right there that _any _moment when something clicks, or feels right, or he remembers even the smallest thing, the least he can do is share it openly.

"So many times," she says breathily, eyes shining. "Even years back when I tried so very hard to get rid of you."

He chuckles at that. "You never really wanted to be rid of me," he says, not really knowing if that's true but guessing it might help to keep the smile on her face. It does.

"Come on," she says, reaching for his hand before suddenly stopping herself halfway through. She shoots him a questioning glance so he reaches out himself, takes up her offer and twines their fingers together.

Just like her radiant smile the rightness of it fuels something deep inside him. Desire flickers to life and he really wants to kiss her. He clears his throat instead.

"So . . . Are we expected?"

Kate nods.

"Yeah, I called while you were talking with Burke earlier. I wanted to make sure everything we had - all the evidence surrounding your abduction and . . . Well the other cases connected to it would be waiting. My team-" she pauses, 'Our team," she says, rephrasing. "They're waiting for us in the conference room. Castle, they're so excited to see you. We're close, the four of us and our Captain. We've been through so much together. So to have you missing has been really hard on all of us, the boys, Captain Gates too, not just me. You were missed a lot, and I want you to know that. These two men, our partners, really they're like the siblings you never had to you, Rick. That's how you think of them."

Castle can't help but smile as he's listening and it hits him that he's clearly a lucky man in many ways. Despite what's happened and all that he can't yet remember, people have missed him. People have never stopped looking for him. He's loved, and that's . . . that's really something. Still, he has to ask,

"What have you told them – about finding me?"

Kate looks serious. "They were with me during everything, but the night your father came and told me he'd found you, I left without sharing that with them. When I spoke to them earlier, that was the first they knew that you'd been found and I didn't really get into details with them. They're going to have a lot of questions, but today isn't about that, Castle. Today is for you, for your questions. Let us share what we know about your disappearance, about the people who took you, and then read as much of the file as you want to. We can even bring it all back home with us if you like. Ask them _your_ questions and let them tell you what _you_ need to know."

Castle looks thoughtful.

"But do they know, well – about the memory thing?"

Kate smiles sadly, "Yeah, Castle. They know."

"Okay then."

He sees her take a deep breath and her fingers tighten on his for just a second, then she goes to tug him forward once more, away from elevator vestibule, but they only make it three steps or so before they're practically accosted.

Every cop in the department seems to be filtering into the bullpen, uniforms and detectives alike. There are even techs from CSU filing in and within about a minute the space is packed around them.

Everyone there is grinning.

Captain Gates exits her office and her eyes immediately land on Kate's, she smiles quickly, wider than Kate has ever seen her. Behind Gates, she spots Ryan and Esposito, her partners are beaming, and Ryan's eyes are even suspiciously watery.

It's a welcoming committee, Kate realizes suddenly. This is everyone that Castle knows here, all the cops he's worked with over the last six years. She's incredibly touched and then she fears in the same instant that maybe this is way too much for him. She shoots a sideways look at her fiancé and is relieved to find he doesn't look like he's about to bolt on her. Instead Castle's jaw has dropped open slightly, he's blinking rapidly like he's a bit dazed, but he also look as moved as she is. She guesses that he's also figured out exactly what's going on here.

"Mr. Castle." Captain Gates' voice is loud, forceful, her intonation of Castle's name just the same as it ever is, bold and brash and faintly foreboding. She steps towards the pair of them as she says it, her eyes now focused with enormous warmth squarely on the writer.

Her presence has the effect on Rick it always has, and inwardly Kate smiles cause he's just reacting right now, but it's a wonderfully familiar reaction, he just doesn't know it. He straightens his posture and stands taller; a nervous but charming smile instantly graces his face.

Gates winds her way past a few of her detectives, until she's close enough to extend her hand to him.

He reaches back immediately and the moment his large hand is grasping hers, Gates covers it with her other one. Warmth floods Kate's chest, such a welcome back for him wasn't something she was expecting, but it's wonderful that she underestimated.

"Mr. Castle," Gates says again, but it's gently this time, grateful. "I'm Captain Victoria Gates," she says, introducing herself and therefore saving Castle from having to remind his friends that he doesn't yet remember them. "Welcome home." The captain adds. "On behalf of the entire department, Mr. Castle – we are so happy to have you with us again. Whatever we can do to help you regain your memories, whatever assistance you need is yours. It's very good to see you," she tells him.

Emotion almost swamps Kate. She feels like her face might be splitting in two so wide is her smile in this moment. All of her colleagues, her Captain, her partners, that everyone would rally around in the short notice she gave Esposito to do this for her fiancé – its plain amazing.

For his part Castle smiles shyly. Waiting until the Captain releases his hands before he pointedly looks slowly around the entire room, carefully making sure to make eye contact with everyone. He nods and grins and the space erupts with applause, the sound boisterous and almost deafening.

When it dies down but the assembled group doesn't disperse, the writer realizes somewhat anxiously that they're expecting him to say something. He looks beseechingly at Kate, something tells him that normally he excels at this sort of thing, but without his history in his head right now he's flailing.

Thankfully Kate reads his distress and steps in for him.

"Thank you, all of you," she says clearly, raising her voice enough that it carries to everyone. "It's been a long and difficult three months, but as you see, Castle has been returned to us. I wish I could let you all in on the details, but right now all I can tell you is that the people responsible for his abduction are no longer a threat, and that Rick is dealing with some memory issues. Your patience and assistance while he figures things out will be invaluable. But please know we are both very, very touched that you all gathered together to welcome him. Thanks again."

There's another quick burst of applause and then the crowd of cops begins to disband, people return to their desks, their phones, to interrogation rooms. Normal activity is resumed, and then it's just the five of them. Kate focuses back on Rick, ignoring the others for just a moment as she leans in to ask him quietly, "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

He must not quite look it because she raises a concerned brow and gets this crease in her forehead that he just loves, one that tells him she's over-thinking.

"Really, I'm fine." He assures her, "Thank you for dealing with that for me. That was . . . really something." Smiling, he flicks his gaze discreetly to the waiting boys and then back again, clearly waiting for her to make some introductions.

One glance at her partners, at Ryan's now very suspiciously watery eyes and Kate's throat closes up; Esposito has to rescue the situation. In his inimitable fashion he just ignores the fact that effectively Castle doesn't know him, pulling the taller man into a bear hug but holding on carefully. Kate's thankful she thought to warn the boys about Castle's injuries.

"It's good to see you, Bro." He lets Castle go with a final squeeze to his biceps, stepping back and smiling wide, before he lets Ryan have a moment with him. The young Irish detective looks like he's about to cry now, and so Castle initiates the hug, breaking through the wall of emotion swirling between the two of them, sensing that his younger friend needs him to.

"Castle," Ryan manages to say, and this hug holds longer, "You scared us."

The writer gets a flash of something at the back of his mind, not a clear memory, not something really tangible, more an impression of a series of embraces. The four of them, him and Kate, Ryan and Esposito, the four amigos and all the danger they've seen. And just as with Martha and Alexis, he's overwhelmed by how strongly he senses that he belongs with these people. Kate told him these men were like brothers to him, that he loved them, he believes it.

"I'm sorry," he tells Ryan gently. Pushing back a little, before grinning disarmingly at him, "I didn't mean to."

Bright blue, searingly honest eyes scan the author's handsome face, then after a long moment Ryan's face drops slightly, and he lets Castle go reluctantly, the faint blush of embarrassment colors his face.

"You _really_ don't remember us, do you?" Ryan asks quietly, "Six years and . . ." He shakes his head and swallows the rest, then looks at Kate with sudden and vast sympathy.

Kate shoots Castle a helpless look which he returns for just a second before he speaks, taking charge of the situation suddenly. He looks at the Captain, then at Esposito and finally Ryan, includes all of them when he says,

"So I was abducted three months ago, tell me about it."


End file.
